The Dragon Lord's Wolf Princess
by Pseudonym Notes
Summary: The Game of Thrones causes Lyanna Baratheon and Daemon Targaryen to become entangled in the love, vengeance and politics of the Iron Throne. Lyanna is forced to flee to Essos after the Lannisters usurp her crown and execute he uncle and cousin, leaving to a land ruled by the exiled prince. Lyanna and Daemon are forced to come to terms when a series of events entangles them closer.
1. The Glory of Birthright

**Shortly after Robert Baratheon Rebellion, 281AC**

The cries of an infant were clear in the thick mist of blood in the air. Her hands were soaked in the blood of the young lady who laid engulfed in the grimace of death. The Lady Lyanna Stark who laid there - eyes fluttering and body quivering beckoned the maid to walk closer with the babe in her arms. As she walked closer the baby squirmed in her arms and the sound of fighting through the window became clearer. She laid the fragile brown-eyed babe in the lady's arms and moved towards the window, taking a glimpse of the fight between Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Eddard Stark. She rushed towards her lady's side in soft whimpers before a hand stroked her head, _"Don't cry child, I know this is not what you had expected when the prince brought you here to serve me..."_ Lyanna whispered. " _No m'lady, it was an honour to serve by your side, you must live on. Lord Stark is outside, he has come to take you back to Winterfell. You will be able to see your beloved North once more"_. The reality that Lyanna might not survive to see her home or her beloved again brought tears to her eyes before the door swung open loudly and footsteps echoed throughout the room.

 _"Ned?"_ Lyanna asked. He rushed towards her, _"Lyanna."_ His sword, ice, was placed at the foot of her bed before he kneeled down beside her. His hand drifted to her frail body, drenched in the blood of his foe and his dear sister.

Her eyes fluttered open towards him, _"Is that you..? Is that really you? You're not a dream?"_ Their fingers intertwined and he gave her a desperate smile with tears threatening to fall, " _no, I'm not a dream. I'm here. I'm right here"_.

Lyanna replied with a weary smile, _"I missed you big brother"._ _"I missed you too_ ", his answer wavered as he scanned his sister's small face that he had not seen for so long.

" _I want to be brave..."_ she whispered as tears rolled down her pale cheeks. _"You are,"_ he said firmly but even the Lord of Winterfell could not dismiss the blood-soaked sheets.

 _"I don't want to die...but Ned, this is inevitable..."_ she gave him a small smile.

For the first time in his life, Ned was truly afraid, his beloved sister and dearest friend was dying in his arms and he could do nothing to protect her, _"you're not going to die,"_ he looked at her again hopelessly before shouting angrily, _"Get her a maester! Is there some water?!"._

She grasped onto his hand tightly and moved it towards the newborn babe, _"listen to be Ned...her name is Aerysa Targaryen, she is Rhaegars daughter and heir to the iron throne...if Robert finds out he will kill her, you know he will...you have to protect her. Promise me, Ned. Promise me"._ He cradled the babe in his arms and tears rolled down his cheeks. _"Promise me, Ned..."_ she whispered once more.

* * *

 **Across the Narrow Sea, The Usurper Robert Baratheon Now Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, 296 AC**

 _"Daemon,"_ the silver-haired beauty yelled as she stormed through the great halls of Illyrio Mopatis's estate looking for her brother. He stood by the balcony solemn looking out into the distance. _"There you are brother,"_ she headed towards him grinning. _"Visenya."_ the silver haired-violet eyed prince said coldly.

 _"Why must you always speak with such attitude",_ he felt her eyeing him like prey. _"I have endured your constant lectures all my life, why must you be so insistent today of all days,"_ he replied sternly before walking away from his sister towards the steaming bath.

The charming prince began to strip out of his robe and stepped into the water. _"My lord, it is too hot,"_ a maid exclaimed rushing towards him.

 _"Fire can not burn a dragon,"_ Visenya ushered the maid away before placing herself onto a velvet chair. _"You must behave today, we will be meeting the Khaleesi of the Dothraki. I heard that she's a beauty,_ " she smirked.

 _"I know what she is dear sister. You need not create addition lies to suit your own cause."_ She chuckled at his reply, _"you know me too well brother. She may not be a beauty but she is a warrior and commands a horde of 40,000 men and women whom will all assist our cause once you claim her. You are Daemon Targaryen, heir to the iron throne and rightful king of the seven kingdoms."_

He sighed and closed his eyes, _"the Dothraki do not follow common laws, they do not select a leader based on gender or birthright. There is no glory in a birthright so fragile it's almost extinguished._ "

Visenya stood up in a fit at his reply, _"fragile? What are you trying to say Daemon? We are the blood of old Valyria. We are descendants of Aegon the Conqueror and the last of House Targaryen!"_

The angelic face of the young prince became constructed and Visenya took a step back realizing that she had crossed the line-she had awoken the dragon. The water dripped down his fair skin as he stepped out of the water. Maids came rushing towards him strapping him a pale turquoise silk robe.

Daemon turned to look at his sister, _"I will marry her and take back our family's legacy, my birthright. If that will make you happy dear sister."_

She looks at him with a wry smile, _"o-of course brother, that is all I have ever wanted"._

He replied with a kiss placed upon the crown of her head before walking off, followed by his maids and guards. Although she understood the circumstances her brother was placed under, yet it still made her furious that he treated her so. If it were not for her brother her mother would not have died bringing him into this world and she would be the heir to the iron throne.

Daemon returned to his chambers and changed into suitable attire, adorned with beads and gems with a low neckline for the hot climates. The sigil of House Targaryen in the form of a silver embellished broached was placed on his right, attached to a cape that mimicked dragon scales draped over his shoulder. Despite the advantageous event to occur the prince held a solemn expression on his face before leaving the estate. He mounted dark star, a purebred black horse whom he had broken into himself after the horse had been found separated from his herd in the fields. The sun had begun to set and the guards insisted on following the prince. They rode in the darkness for hours before reaching the aroma of spiced meat cooking and large tents formed from leaves, sticks, and bones. The men sat upon their horses each waiting for the Khaleesi and her blood riders to appear.

A figure appeared in the distance, a small lady with dark brown hair and sun-kissed skin draped in furs walk forward with armed men by her side. _That's her..._ he thought. His lips parted, and the words echoed again in his mind. Daemon was indeed nervous, for although she was a woman she was just as much of a warrior and any of his men. It surprised him when she stopped before him and looked up, revealing her piercing brown eyes. Her Dothraki horde became silent as they all began to gather around like a herd of sheep, waiting for what was to occur. He gazed into her eyes, seeing the flicker of fear. Even as the Khaleesi of a great Dothraki horde, she was still a young lady who was pressured into this alliance for the sake of her people. The ritual was done, she had accepted the match and so had he. Daemon replied with a wry smile and turned to ride back to the estate, for the night had yet to come.

* * *

 **Winterfell, Home to Eddard Stark and a Princess Surrounded by Winter Roses 296AC**

She dragged her feet in the snow, heading deeper and deeper into the Forrest. On dark nights like this, she oftener dreamed of what her mother would look like. How we would hug her tightly, kiss the crown of her head, tell her tales of the world and protect her. When she would dream of such things it only brought her more sorrow when she awoke. So such nights, she would sneak off without her uncle knowing and find comfort in the darkness of nature. She sat her small body down on the snow and grabbed the winter roses that grew near. They were a resilient flower, one that bloomed beautifully and thrived in the absence of spring. She found herself intertwining the roses into a crown. Despite being beautiful, it was a crown tainted by blood.

 _"Lyanna!"_ The words echoed through the Forrest. She was brought to her feet, it must be Robb she thought. Lyanna turned around in search of the voice when arms draped around her and a surge of warmth engulfed her. She was shocked for a moment before she laughed and stepped on his foot. Robb let her go, wincing in pain with laughter plastered on his face, "why must you always do that Lyanna?"

 _"You must never treat a lady so,"_ she laughed.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. Robb looked at her with much endearment before grabbing her hands, _"did you have such saddening dreams again?"_

Lyanna hands rested in his, still dripping blood. She looked away not knowing how to answer him, her head hung low and all she could hear was him sigh as he held her hand. Robb pulled a piece of fabric from his pocket and wrapped her hands, _"you are a princess...must you always act like a boy"._

Her hands drifted away from his grasp and she sat down in the snow once more, _"I am no princess"._

 _"You are the trueborn daughter of King Robert Baratheon and Lady Lyanna of House Stark"._

 _"I am no princess, I was raised here all my life. My father can't stand the sight of me because I look too much like_ mother _..."_

 _"You are beautiful Lyanna"._

Lyanna brought her knees towards her chest and placed her arms on them, resting her head and looking away from Robb's eyes.

 _"Does he even love me...?"_

 _"Of course he does, he is your father...but he is also the king, he has his duties to the people"._

 _"He is not my father. Lord Stark has been more of a father to me than him. I do not even know his face, how can he be my father Robb?"_ She whispered silently as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Robb moved closer to her pulling her into an embrace. He hated seeing her cry. _"Go on and cry Lyanna, cry as much as need be. But once you shed your last tear this night, never cry over such a man again"._

 _"Father said he loved my mother so much so he started a war in hopes of getting her back...but I-I killed her Robb... She died to give me life. Is that the reason why every name day I am cursed to be so pitiful... with no father, no mother, no one who loves me...,"_ she cried as she clutched onto his arms.

 _"I love you, all your brothers love you, mother and father love you,"_ he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. His hand drifted to her tear stain cheek and cupped her face, _"you are the Princess Lyanna Baratheon of House Stark, the Princess in the North"._

Lyanna looked up at Robb, who now seemed more of a man in her eyes than ever before. She grew up in the presence of men her entire life, for Lord Stark never fathered daughters. Only five sons, Robbert, Sebastian, Brandon, Eddard, and Rickon. To the people of the north she was their princess and lady-but to the boys of House Stark, she was their beloved sister.

Stark words _winter is coming,_ never really made sense in her mind. To the young lady, it always seemed like winter was never ending in the North. The wind was still dry and cold as always making the absence of spring was evident. Lyanna made her way to her draws in search of an outfit at the break of dawn to find appropriate to attend training with the boys. Much to her uncle's dismay, Lyanna was indeed too similar to his sister. A wolf-blooded Stark in all but name. She grabbed her armour and sword, rushing out of her room as she swung her furred lined cloak upon her small frame. The smile plastered on her face was the light amidst the cold of the winter and it was obvious to everyone who greeted the young princess what she was up to. The Lady of Winterfell, Catelyn Tully was a dutiful wife to Eddard Stark and a loving mother to her sons and Lyanna. Despite the whispers that spread throughout the Castle of Winterfell upon Lord Starks return with a small babe in his arms, Lady Stark became smitten with the young princess. When it became evident that she would have no daughters of her own, her motherly instincts towards Lyanna grew fonder and more protective. All the good intentions of Lady Catelyn came to ruins when Lyanna came to produce her own will and mind of what she likes and does not. No septa could teach Lyanna to be a perfect lady and stay seated long enough to embroider flowers, not even with the insistent lectures of Lady Catelyn. Lyanna was a princess, and although it was Lady Catelyn who sat by her bedside when she caught the pox, who sung her lullabies to sleep and comforted her when the little boys and girls were nasty, Lyanna was now old enough to have her own mind. And it was certainly the appropriate age to begin to rebel.

 _"Lyanna! What are you waiting for? Hurry up princess,"_ Sebastian yelled gleefully looking at her from the balcony.

 _"I'm no_ princess _Bash,"_ She laughed as she headed towards the stairs before she printed towards them. Sebastian and Robb were practicing their swords skills while Bran was practicing archery. Lyanna stood next to him as he aimed, _"breathe Bran. I know you can do it"._ He finally took the shot and to Lyanna's surprise, he missed. Bran stood and sighed as he hung his head low, _"I'll never get it Lyanna..."_

 _"Yes, you will. Go on, fathers watching,"_ she insisted as she pats his back before continuing, _"and your mother"._ Robb and Bash dropped their swords with curiosity and headed towards them. Bran turned to look back and saw his father upon the balcony looking down at him. He felt sweat rolling down his back. Bran had always thought his father too busy to pay attention to his training, but at that moment he was not only terrified but determined to show his best front. A front that did not consist of constant failure. Bran took his stance and pulled the arrow, standing patiently as he aimed, _I won't miss again_ he thought and let go of the arrow as it flew and flew, straight pass...and missed. His brothers bursted into laughter, Bash patted him on the back as he laughed and Robb stood in the distance chuckling. Even his babe of a brother Rickon was snickering.

 _"And which one of you_ were _a marksman at ten,"_ Lord Stark commented. Bran looked up to see his father looking at him proudly with a small smile, _"keep_ practicing _Bran. Go on."_ Bran let out a soft sigh and looked back towards the target, he began to raise his bow arm up and slowly pulled the trigger with his right. _"Don't think too much Bran,"_ Lyanna gushed. Robb observed the determined look on his little brother's face and smiled, _"relax your bow arm."_ To everyone's dismay before Bran could take his shot and arrow landed on the bull's eye of the target. Bran swung his body round to see who it was. There stood his brother, Edd, with a mischievous smile that infuriated the young Stark. Almost immediately, Bran dropped his bow and arrows and chased after his brother like a wolf starved for days. The Stark boys left in the field laughed and Lyanna looked at her uncle with a sweet smile. At moments like this, it seemed as though the words of House Stark were truly inaccurate, for winter was here and but spring was yet to bloom.

* * *

 **East of Westeros, The Dothraki Sea in Essos 296AC**

As all Dothraki festivities go, the wedding between the rightful King to the Seven Kingdoms and the Khaleesi of Khalessi's was not an event to miss. Merchants and nobles from across the great grass sea and the poisoned water had travelled to attend the event and pay respect to Prince Daemon and the Dothraki Khaleesi. Daemon had always held a quiet demeanour, had never indulged in partying, women or wine. Visenya, on the other hand, seemed to everyone but him every bit as much of a mad dragon as their father. It seemed trivial to her when she slapped a maiden or condemned another to death. Daemon had a noble, valiant and kind heart. He took no interest into emitting the anger of his misfortunes onto others. He knew very well that his dear sister despised him. She had every right to. Daemon knew that if it was not for him, she would be the heir to the iron throne, she would still have a mother and would not have to raise her own kin before she even knew what the meaning of kin was. He stole away her birthright, family, and childhood. The least he could do was marry a foreign woman. Foreign, but still a woman with power and a crown in her own right. He was determined to take back what belongs to him - House Targaryen. He would get everything back starting from the ground with fire and blood.

The event was like nothing the prince had ever seen. It was a celebration of blatant sex and violence. The Dothraki believed that a wedding without at least two deaths was a dull affair, so they cheered at every death that occurred. Daemon glanced at his new wife who had a grin plastered on her face as she observed her people. He turned back to the men and women who were offering gifts with a calm expression until a man of fifty approached the prince directly and placed a selection of books in his hands, _"a small gift to the new Khal, songs, history, and lore from the seven kingdoms."_

 _"Thank you Ser... are you-from my country?"_ Daemon asked the man who stood before him.

 _"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I served your father for many years, Gods be good. I always hope to serve the rightful king."_ The Man stated before giving Daemon a respectful bow and head his way.

The wealthy Magister of the Free City of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis who had been the benefactor to his sister and himself for the past few years walked towards the steps and placed ushered his men to place a chest down. The opened chest revealed three petrified dragon eggs. _"Dragon eggs Daemon, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai,"_ Illyrio explained. Daemon reached his hand towards the Emerald dragon egg, holding it as he observed the gold markings on the scales. _"The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful. I thought it appropriate as they are the sigil of your house. They represent the beginning of a new era. The rebirth of the Targaryen dynasty."_

The Khaleesi stood and all was silent, she looked over her shoulder to her new husband whom she deemed too beautiful to be a true warrior or man. They walked towards the horses that were prepared and she took the reigns of a silver-haired mount that reminded her of her husband. She handed him the reigns and looked into her eyes. No matter how much she looked at him she was still in awe. His face seemed so fragile, his hair was ethereal and his eyes were a piercing violet. Despite the language barrier his soft smile was enough to reassure her of his good intentions. She left him be and mounted her horse as did he. The khalasar began to follow suit as now it was time to take her newly wedded husband back to Vaes Dothrak to present him to the Dosh Khaleen and the elders of the Dothraki.

* * *

 **Kingslanding Home to the Newly formed Baratheon Dynasty with Robert Baratheon as King 296AC**

 _"You should have killed the bitch and her daughter!"_ Robert yelled across the small council, eyes glaring at Ser Jamie Lannister then to his queen. News had arrived in kings landing that the dragon-spawn had conceived an alliance with the Dothraki in the great plains of Essos through marriage. The Dothraki were powerful warriors, with almost one hundred and forty thousand fighting men in total yet Daemon Targaryen Khalsar only had the force of forty thousand-horse Lord's at his call and Robert was not ignorant enough to battle Dothraki in an open field. He slammed his fist on the table, _"what do you skinny men suppose we do now?"_ he looked at his small council. Robert was indeed a warrior and a great fighter, but he did not wield enough patience of intelligence to be a good king. In his rage, the king grabbed his sword and pointed it at Ser Jamie, _"what do you suppose we do...kingslayer?"_

Since his act of betrayal towards the crown during Roberts Rebellion, he had deemed the knight unhonorable despite the great deed he had done for him, for the world. The act of murdering the mad king in cold blood. Everyone knew Ser Jamie Lannister, as the Kingslayer. As the man who dishonoured his vows of protecting his king, the royal family at all cost to his life. Now in his old age, Robert seemed to view everyone even his wife and children with suspicion. Maybe the old Targaryen blood that runs through his veins was making him mad, mad enough to have ordered the murder of babes in their mother's arm. Mad enough to have wished Jamie to had murdered the sweet Queen Rhaella during pregnancy. _"If you insist that this is a problem, maybe we should call in our bannermen. After what the mad king was, no man in their right mind would support the Targaryen Prince's claim to the Iron Throne,"_ Jamie said calmly.

Robert chuckled. Then he laughed. And when the laughed died out, all was left was an empty expression and six cold words, _"any claim is still a claim."_

 _"Of course, my king."_ Cersei uttered with a sweet smile, _"we shall discuss this on another occasion with our bannermen and the nobles of Westeros. We have two sons, born and raised in Westeros. The dragon spawn is a Targaryen boy was born and raised on foreign lands with madness in their blood. The only motive is to usurp the Iron Throne for their own means from the rightful king."_

The words uttered from the queen's mouth seemed ironic to the small council. Who was the _real_ usurper? Who was the _real_ rightful king? The Seven Kingdoms exist as one because of the Targaryen dynasty, they exist because of Aegon. Robert stole the throne by murdering the valiant Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, having Ser Jamie Lannister stab King Aerys II in the back and Ser Gerold Clegane murder Rhaegars children before he raped her. The rightful king should be one with Targaryen blood. Still, the saying was true: Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.


	2. Duty to The Crown

**East of Westeros, Daemon's Khalasar now Journeying to The Dothraki City, Vaes Dothrak 297AC**

 _"Do the Dothraki buy their slaves?"_ Daemon question looking at Jorah.

 _"The Dothraki don't believe in money. Most of their slaves were given as a gift,"_ Jorah replied.

 _"From whom,"_ the prince asked.

 _"If you rule a city when you see the horde approaching you have two options: pay tribute of fight. An easy choice for most. Of course, sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes a Khal-"_

 _"Does my wife look like a Khal to you, Ser Jorah."_

 _"No, your grace. Sometimes a Khaleesi feels insulted by the number of slaves she's given, the men too weak or the women too ugly. Sometimes a Khaleesi may decide that her riders haven't had a good fight in months and need the practice…"_ Jorah explained as Daemon looked towards the distance. The slaves carrying boulder-like weight on the back of their small frames as they are whipped by his wife's blood riders. They had been riding to Vaes Dothrak for hours and Daemon had enough of the cruelty of the Dothraki and the little power he had to stop it. Eventually, Daemon came to the conclusion that he was the blood of Old Valyria, the last of the Targaryen male line, and now he was the Khal of the Horde. He wielded power and he would do as he saw fit, _"tell them all to stop."_

 _"You want the entire horde to stop? For how long?"_

 _"Until I command them otherwise,"_ Daemon stated calmly.

 _"You're learning to talk like a king."_

 _"Not a king. A Khal."_ Daemon dismounted and wandered off into the abyss of swaying trees. He had used the power he wielded as he saw fit, now a the khalasar of 40,000 men and women had halted because of him. As he wandered further and further into nature, he felt lost yet able to breathe and think for the first time in a long time.

Daemon closed his eyes a took a deep breath before his peace and serenity were interrupted by the sound of a galloping horse heading his way. "Has power gone to your head, dear brother?" Visenya yelled as she got off her stallion and stormed his way. She roughly grabbed his should and turned him to face her and pushed him, _"you dare command me? To me? You do not command the dragon?"_ The change in Visenya's lilac eyes was now Violet and Daemon realized all his fears were true. His sister was truly mad. Mad enough to forsake her blood and hold a knife to his throat. She gave him a malicious smirk, _"I don't take orders from savages or their sluts."_

Raged boiled in Daemons blood at the realization of whom his sister was talking about, it brought him to move closer the mad princess-knife against his bare skin, blood dripping down the blade. Visenya saw the look in her brother's eyes, she had awoken the dragon. Shivers ran down her spine, "do you hear me?"

Daemon calmly grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist, knife landing on the ground and his sister at his will. He let go of her wrist and slapped her across the face. "The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands." Daemon grabbed a piece a fabric off her dress and wiped the blood from his neck before he dropped the cloth on the ground. Visenya stood there in fear, she knew her brother as a kind prince. Yet a sleeping dragon was still a dragon who could burn cities into ash. It was the first time her babe of a brother had ever raised a hand to her, this was the event that drove her to greed, jealousy, and madness. In her mind, he had forsaken her for savages, for a whore of a wife and forgot his pledge to take back what was theirs.

Rakharo, a loyal Dothraki bodyguard to Daemon appeared with Ser Jorah and his handmaiden, Irri, by his side. The horse lord looked at Visenya then to the cut on Daemons neck and grabbed her by the whip, _"Hash_ shafka zali addrivat maezhey _Khaleesi?". "Rakharo asks if you want her dead Khal,"_ Irri translates.

 _"No!"_ Daemon states.

Rakharo looks at his Khal then to the suffocating princess and speaks once more this time more vulgar and insistent, _"Ishish_ chare acharoe _hash me_ nem ejervae nharesoon. _Maybe the ear will listen if it is removed from the head_ Irri translates looking at Visenya with disdain.

Daemon is shocked by Rakharo's intentions and makes eye contact with Ser Jorah who holds an expression of expectation. The prince had just displayed the act of being a Khal to Ser Jorah, he could not afford to disappoint the anointed night whom he respected. Daemon forced a smile and calmly spoke, _"tell him, I don't want my sister harmed."_

 _"Khaleesi vos zalo meme nem vazzisa,"_ Irri explained.

Irri turned to Rakharo and translated her Khals words to which Rakharo responded with a glare and Irri reciprocated with a shrug. Daemons bodyguard sighed and released his sister who stood to her feet in anger demanding the Ser Jorah apprehend and murder these _Dothraki dogs._ Ser Jorah turned to his king, _"shall we return to the_ khalasar _, Khal."_ Daemon shared a fleeting glance of disappointed to his sister and mounted his horse in response.

You _will wed her, bed her and put a child in her,_ were the words that echoed in his head and the image of how his once beautiful and benevolent sister had become in only a matter of months. It had been hours since the confrontation with his sister and now they were finally in the Great Dothraki City of Vaes Dothrak. Yet, Daemon felt more out of place than ever before. He had initially decided to marry this warrior Khaleesi for her army, now he felt lost in this marriage. Dothraki was a language too complicated to fathom, so now the newlywed husband and wife spoke no words to each other, only fleeting glances and heartfelt gazes. He knew she wanted an heir to secure her position as the leading Khal but at the end of the day, she was still a woman. How would she ride into war with her men or raid cities whilst being pregnant? The world was still new to the existence of the last Targaryens and he was sure that the usurper would have now been informed of his existence and presence in politics.

Daemon sat there in thought as his handmaidens tended to the wounds on his hands from riding on horseback. The Dothraki maids had attempted to learn the common tongue to be able to speak to their new Khal. The young girls were barely women but their cheeks flushed every time the prince would glance at them. They were flustered at the sight of a man more beautiful than any Dothraki Khaleesi or Essos whore they had seen. His eyes were the color of amethyst crystal and his hair was silver despite his young age. They had come to the conclusion that witchcraft had kissed his soul and turned his hair white. Daemon glanced at his dragon eggs sitting in the chest - lit by candles and a smile began to form on his lips. There was something about the eggs that seemed alive. It was true that dragons have been gone for centuries, yet something about the dragon eggs that laid before him ushered the idea that dragons will appear once more in his lifetime.

* * *

 **The North, Duties of the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North** **297AC**

A deserter was found at the gates of Winterfell and the duty came upon Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North to pass the sentence. The Old way was the only way to Ned, the words seemed clear as a bell: _the man who passes the sentence swings the sword._ Ned had experienced his fair share of deserters, executions, and myths of White Walkers uttered before he swung the sword. He did not falter when it was time, _"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."_

"Don't look away, your father will know," Lyanna whispered into Bran's ear.

Lyanna was not hidden away from such events as Ned knew that soon enough she would become a grown woman and ushered away by the king to the south. A place was honour is forsaken and betrayal is a skill that is wielded by the treachours vying for the Iron Throne. Even a princess could not be shielded from the horrors of the world all her life. The northern men stood there unwavering waiting for their Lord to pass the sentence, Theon, Robb, Bash, Lyanna and young bran were all present. All barely full-grown men, as they watched Ned swift fully detach the young boys head from his neck with a swing of his sword.

 _"You did well..."_ Lyanna spoke again as if a life had not been taken from this world and left to saddle her horse. Bash followed suit and Robb turned to look at his babe of a brother staring and the blood dripping from the stone. He turned his brother around and ushered him towards his horse. Ned realized the sullen look on his son's face and approached him with a serious expression, " _do you understand why I did it?"_

 _"Lyanna said he was a deserter."_

 _"But did you understand why I had to kill him?"_

 _"All ways the old way?"_

 _"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,"_ a wry smile formed on Ned's face.

The men mounted their horses and headed back to Winterfell only to meet a dead stag. _"Mountain lion?"_ Theon uttered. Lord Stark shook his head and looked around to find a trail of blood, _"there are no mountain lions in these woods."_

He began to follow the trail of blood, to find a dead dire wolf killed from the battle with the stag. Five dire wolf pups cried as the men approached. Ned shook his head looking at the scene, the scene of two majestic animals-the sigils of House Stark and Baratheon fought each other only to die a mere distance apart. _"It's a freak,"_ Theon uttered.

 _"It's a dire wolf,"_ Lord Stark stated.

Lyanna came closer and leaned down near the pups, she had never seen a dire wolf in reality. Yet now she saw one dead before her eyes leaving five pups orphaned. _"Beautiful beast,"_ Ned murmured as he pulled the Stags horn out from the dire wolf.

 _"There are no_ dire wolves _South of the Wall,"_ Robb countered.

Lyanna looked at the dire wolf pups before her, _"no there are five."_ She turned to Bran and grabbed a pup, " _do you want to hold it?"_ and laid the pup in his arms.

 _"Where will they go? Their mothers dead..."_ Bran demurred.

Ned looked to his advisor who stood firmly and shook his head, _"they don't belong here."_ He grabbed his sword and looked to his son, _"give it here, it'll be a quick death. They won't last without their mother."_

Immediately Bran hid the small pup in his arms under his cloak before Theon could snatch it away from him. _"Give it here,"_ Theon chided as he roughly grabbed the pup from Bran making it cry in pain. _"No!"_ Bran rebutted.

 _"Put away your blade,"_ Robb commanded looking every bit as the heir to Winterfell.

Theon sneered in reply, _"I take orders from your father. Not you."_

 _"Please father,"_ Bran begged as he looked at his father who was approaching the pup in Theon's hand.

 _"I'm sorry_ Bran Ned said as he shook his head once more.

Bran turned to Lyanna with teary eyes and grabbed onto her cloak. _Do something Lyanna, please. Father will listen to you. Tell him to let the pups be._ Plea filled Bran's thoughts as he looked up at Lyanna, pulling on her cloak repeatedly. Lyanna turned to look at the Theon then to the pups on the ground and sighed, _"Lord Stark, there are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The dire wolf is the sigil of your House, they were meant to have them."_

All three Stark boys present looked to their father who stood their stoic as always before the silence of thought finally ended and he looked at Bran, _"You will train them yourselves, you will feed them yourselves and if they die, you will bury them yourselves."_

Bran smiled gleefully at his father's reply and Bash rushed to grab a dire wolf pup. Lyanna smiled at Robb who approached her with arms open. She passed him a dark-coloured wolf and grabbed another to pass to the other boys. Once all pups were ushered off Bran turned to look at his cousin, _"What about you Lyanna?"_

She replied with a soft smile, _"I'm not a Stark."_

 _"I don't think it would be very lady like for the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms to own a_ dire wolf Bash interrupted as he carried his dire wolf away.

As the men began to leave one by one, Lyanna followed suit before she heard the small whimpers of what seemed to be another pup. She stopped and stood there looking around, listening for the sound to appear once more. _"What is it Lyanna?"_ Robb asked.

Lyanna followed the sound to see the image of a white dire wolf pup curled in a corner of rocks and dirt. She grabbed the pup and looked at Robb.

 _"The runt of the litter, I'm sure you can handle that princess."_ Bash chuckled as he walked off with Theon. The men returned and mounted their horse, the stark boys with dire wolves in their arms and Lyanna with a red-eyed pup who whimpered the entire time.

When they returned to Winterfell Ned decided he wanted to spend some time alone, so he headed off to the only place he knew where he could find solace. The weir wood tree in the forest. Once a place where he and his siblings would play and fight. He sat down by the tree with his sword in his one hand and a wet stone in the other. He remembered the times when he was little when Lyanna would pressure him into getting out of bed late at night and going into their father's rooms to look at the sword. She would tell him how Brandon would get the sword because he's heir to Winterfell, and how jealous she was father and mother hadn't birthed her as a boy.

His smile died as Catelyn approached with a sullen look on her elegant face, _"all these years and I still feel like an outsider when I come here."_

Ned looked at his beloved and a smile returned to his face, _"you have five northern children. You're not an outsider."_

 _"I wonder if the old gods agree."_

 _"It's your god with all the rules,"_ Ned joked in reply before his eyes wavered to the note in her hands.

 _"I'm so sorry my love, there was a raven from kings landing. Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him,"_ her beloved face became drained of life and he hung his head looking at his sword. _"I know he was like a father to you..."_ she moved closer and sat by his side.

 _"Your sister-the boy,"_ he questioned.

 _"They both have their health. Gods be_ _good...the raven brought more news, the King rides of Winterfell with the Queen and all the rest of them."_

 _"If he is riding this far North, then there's only one thing he's after."_

 _"You can always say no Ned."_ He looked at his wife then back to his sword. They both headed back to Winterfell with heavy hearts, contemplating how they would announce the news to the children, to Lyanna.

Lyanna looked around for the boys but they were nowhere to be found, instead, she was met with men, women, and children running around the halls of Winterfell preparing for an event like no other. _"Your grace, Lord Stark would like to speak with you,"_ Septa Mordane Announced as she approached Lyanna. The young princess followed the septa to the Lord of Winterfell's council room. _"You wanted to speak with me, uncle,"_ she asked as she approached him. Septa Mordane gave them their privacy and closed the door. Lyanna was now worried at the action, her uncle seemed more stoic and brooding than usual. Something must be going on she thought. _"Sit down child,"_ he said calmly as he took to his own seat.

 _"There is something I must inform you,"_ he turned to look at her with a chalice of ale in his hands. The obvious redness on his cheeks confirmed that something is definitely wrong enough to make Lord Eddard Stark drink on an informal occasion. Lyanna began picking at the skin of her hands as the silence continued to make her more and more nervous. _"Your father will be arriving in Winterfell before the suns down,"_ Ned spoke slowly as if not to frighten her and continued, _"he will be arriving with his Queen-"_

 _"Cersei Lannister..." Lyanna murmured._

 _"Yes, and her brothers. Along with your brothers and sisters."_

They're not my family Lyanna insisted in thought. She barely knew them. Even the father her uncle spoke so fondly of she knew nothing of his face personally. Only how he's portrayed in paintings and the rumours of his infidelities. Despite her concerns and lack of knowledge in regards to her family, she felt terrified and her stomach churning. This is what she has always wanted. For her father to come and take her away, to love her and care for her welfare. Lyanna knew for a fact that her father-the king would have taken her back from her uncle as a babe if he loved her, he would not have waited fifteen years to officially claim her as his own.

 _"Jon Arryn has died, I expect the King has personally come to make me his hand and take you back to Kings Landing..."_

 _"No! I don't want to go south!"_ she yelled as she stood up from her seat.

Ned held her hand and beckoned her to sit back down, "calm down child, your father will not force you to come with him to Kings Landing...but you are still a Princess Lyanna. Do you want to live in the North all your life? Don't you want to marry a handsome Lord and be the Lady of the castle?"

 _"That's not me. I'm not a princess. I am no Baratheon. I am a Stark."_

Ned chuckled at her answer, it reminded him so much of his beloved sister. She was every bit her mother's daughter, _"I know you think your father doesn't love you. That he abandoned you. That is the farthest from the truth."_

Lyannas eyes softened as looked at her uncle, what was he trying to say she thought. " _That year, your mother became betrothed to Robert, your father. He was bewitched by her at first sight and sought her hand. Your mother was wolf-blooded, feisty and every bit much a warrior as any of the men I knew,"_ Ned sighed and up towards the ceiling. _"A month later after the tourney of Harrenhal, they wed. Then one day your mother disappeared and so did Rhaegar Targaryen. My father and brother rode to Kings Landing to request the mad king to return your mother to us, instead he brutally murdered them. It led to your father suspecting he had kidnapped her, that act engendered the only thing your father knew best-how to fight. He started the rebellion-the war with the purpose of bringing her back to him. Yet when the war was over, Rhaegar was dead and so was his father and children. Yet despite all of Roberts efforts, it was too late. I found your mother in a tower surrounded by blood with you cradled in her arms. She died that day, and so did your father's heart. He was in so much grief he was not seen for months, Lyanna made me promise to protect you as my own. It was her last wish, so your father respected her final words and left you with me. He knew he was not strong enough to look after you nor had he the courage to look at you. For you, my child is the living image of love and beauty-your mother."_


	3. A Dragon is Not a Slave

**The Red Keep, Kings Landing 298AC**

The arrival and departure of King Robert Baratheon and his court were as quaint as it could have been if not for the king's request to make Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell and Warden of the North his hand. The king had decided it was time for his beloved daughter, the princess in the North to return to where she truly belonged-Kings landing. It had been months since the day she was whisked away in the royal carriage with the now grown dire wolf pup, Ghost, by her side. Lyanna had said her goodbyes that day to the people she had known as family and the men, women, and children she had called her people. That day was the first time in her life she saw a vulnerable side to Robb, they had held a long embrace as she wept in his arms with a heavy heart. Robb held her tighter the more she wept, he had not wanted to let her go. The strange arrival of the king and his court had brought nothing but misfortune to his family, his brother became a cripple, his father was named hand and they had managed to purloin his beloved away based solely alone on the name she bore. Letters were frequently exchanged between the North and South, yet the pages of detailed words could not fill the void that was left.

Lord Stark had come to the South to support his friend as his hand much to his wife's dismay and brought along with him his two sons, Sebastian and Eddard. Ned had always worried for his two most reckless sons, they were so different from his golden child-Robb. Bash was the embodiment of love and light, he was intelligent and good with a sword but not capable enough to be his father's heir. Eddard, on the other hand, had potential to become a skilled fighter and more of a man than many of the men at Winterfell at the age of twelve but did not wield the temperament of a potential Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North. Ned had worried ever more now that Bran had lost his ability to walk and Rickon was still only a babe. It was clear to him that all his children would grow to become good people, but a person who is good does not account for an individuals ability to rule the Northern-most Kingdom. The many worries that weighed his heart allowed a sigh to escape from Eddards lips.

 _"What is wrong old man,"_ Robert spoke looking at his friend. _"Do you find my court displeasing?"_

 _"No, your grace,"_ Ned replied.

 _"Remember Ned, you are here to help me rule the Seven Kingdoms not to be a solemn figurehead,"_ Robert spoke with ale in hand, _"we were meant to rule together and if your sister had lived to this day we would have been bound by blood."_

 _"We are bound by blood. We are bound by blood through your daughter, Lyanna."_

 _"Yet you still worry dear friend."_

Ned looked at his friend with a confused expression that caused Robert to chuckle in amusement. _"We had been friends since we were children. Do you expect me to not understand what is in your mind? One boy is outspoken, one is audacious, one is a cripple and the other is but a babe. These are your worries and thoughts now that you are in the South. The place where your family was butchered by those wretched Targaryens. You have only but one son capable of being Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell in your steed."_

 _"What are you trying to imply Robert?"_

 _"You have a son, I have a daughter. We'll join our houses."_

Eddard and Bash who stood quietly behind the secret passages of the Red Keep waited patiently for their father and the King to leave the room. The two brothers had initially decided to use the forbidden pathways of the castle to finally provoke a fright to their cousin, Lyanna. Instead, the Stark brothers happened upon the conversation between their father-the newly appointed hand and the King. The two boys rushed out of the passage and sprinted to Lyanna's chambers the moment they were certain their father and the king had left. _Lyanna must know for this_ they thought. Both brothers knew of the feelings that Robb held for Lyanna and her for him, their only concern was how much she loathed having something forced upon her.

The guards who stood by her door greeted the young Lords respectfully before opening their door. Lyanna sat at her vanity with maids brushing her hair and Ghost lying by her feet. _"We must speak with you at once!"_ Eddard yelled hurriedly. Bash turned to look at her handmaidens, _"alone"._

 _"What is the problem..?"_ Lyanna asked concerned as she dismissed her handmaidens.

 _"We heard father and the king discussing an issue of great importance..."_ Eddard muttered.

Bash sighed and blurted, _"The king plans to join our houses by marrying you to our brother, Robb!"_

Lyannas eyes dilated at the words uttered and stood from her seat pacing back and forth the room. _"Whats wrong Lyanna? You have loved Robb since we were children,"_ Bash questioned.

 _"I do-I did...but that's not the problem."_

 _"Then what is? Do you not think he will honour you?"_ Eddard pondered.

 _"No. I mean yes, I do think he will honour me. I think Robb is a great man...I know he cares for me. I just don't want to be a chess piece bargained off like a broodmare. How dare father and uncle have the audacity to make plans without my consent, or the very least my presence and knowledge!"_ Lyanna began to yell, her blood boiling and her cheeks flushed.

Bash spoke in the attempt to calm down the wolf-blooded princess, _"he is the king. He need not ask your permission or consent to wed off his only daughter with his beloved."_

Lyanna pressed her hands towards her face and screamed. The action had shocked not only the two brothers, ghost but the guards and maidens who stood outside her door. They rushed in armed, _"are you alright princess?"_

 _"No! I am not fine!"_

Lyanna grabbed her sword and sprinted into the halls towards the yard with Ghost following at her heels. The guards and maids attempted to chase after the angered princess but were stopped by Eddard and Bash, _"if you wish to return to your families with ten fingers and toes intact you would be wise to leave her be."_

The flushed princess pulled out her sword and began striking the tree as if her sole purpose in life was to bring the extinction of nature. _How dare they sell her like a mare_ she thought. Her emotions took the best of her and she became blinded by anger, striking everything that was in her path. A shadow appeared before her and she turned to strike the person, assuming it was the guards her father had assigned for her protection or her cousins who did nothing to prevent the betrothal. Before her stood Joffery Baratheon, the golden-haired tyrant who was merely a boy fortunate enough to be born with the Baratheon name. He must have reaped the fruits bared in his past life to be such a spoiled brat. _"What are you doing here? Go away!"_ Lyanna shouted.

Joffery simply chuckled at her statement and looked to the dire wolf growling protectively beside her, _"and who is this?"_

Lyanna reciprocated his question with an angered glare and dropped her sword, not wanting to taint the beautiful blade with the blood of a worthless tyrant.

 _"Pick up your sword, you Northern bastard."_

 _"What did you just say?"_

 _"I said pick up your sword Northern bastard. I am your prince."_

In a fit of rage, Lyanna walked towards him unarmed - only a hand aching in retaliation. She punched him in the face and before he could react, she pulled him by the collar kneed him hard enough to hear him groaning in pain. It had not been the first time she had fought with a boy. The five Stark brothers were enough to give her a thorough understanding of how to best a man and make him feel true excruciating physical pain.

 _"You little bitch!"_ Joffery yelled as he pulled out his sword and lunged towards Lyanna. Ghost had almost instinctively pounced onto the prince in an attack, plunging his sharp jaws into Joffrey's arm before holding the prince underneath him as he growled. The dire wolfs mouth was stained with blood, his snout only mere inches away from Joffrey's face.

 _"Joffery!"_ A woman yelled.

 _"Ghost, heel."_ The dire wolf freed the prince from his grasp and came to stand beside his master.

Men in Kings guard armour rushed to the scene before the Cersei appeared. The queen rushed to her son side as he wept in her arms, _"my son, who did this to you?"_ Joffery turned to look at Lyanna who stood guard by her dire wolf. _"Seize that insolent girl."_

The guards stood and came to her side, _"you dare lay a hand on me."_ She spoke boldly with piercing eyes, every bit as much as a princess, a stark, a warrior.

 _"Do you not like your heads anymore? Seize the girl!"_ Cersei shouted.

Ghost began to snarl with blood dripping from his teeth staining his white coat. His eyes were now bloodshot red, filled with awareness as adrenaline rushed through his veins. _"I am the Princess Lyanna Baratheon, daughter to King Robert Baratheon first of his name and the Queen Lyanna of House Stark. The only person in this world with the right to punish me is my father. You, Cersei Lannister, are not my mother nor fit to be Queen when you have forsaken your one duty as a mother to your children."_

Cersei was infuriated by the young girl who lectured her whilst standing proudly. It had only been mere months since her arrival in Kings Landing and the Queen was belittled in comparison to the young princess who now wielded more authority than she. A loud chuckled echoed and the King appeared before them with his hand Lord Stark by his side.

 _"She is the living image of her mother,"_ Robert spoke to his friend as he looked at his daughter.

 _"How can you be so merry when your son was attacked by the girl and her beast."_

Robert looked down towards his son who had tear-stained cheeks and blood on his body, _"you let a girl disarm you?"_ Joffery hung his head low at his father's words in disgrace.

 _"What happened my princess?"_ Robert asked his daughter calmly.

Lyanna looked towards Joffery and then to the king, _"Joffery had disrespected you father."_

 _"Liar!"_ Joffery hollered.

 _"He had claimed I was a bastard -_ _insinuating that my mother, the benevolent Queen Lyanna had no morals and honour. Therefore by showing disrespect to the late queen, your beloved he had not only shown disgrace towards mother and father but the Seven Kingdoms as heir to the Iron Throne. I had only taught him respect as his older sister and the duty of a princess in the place of his mother, whom could not."_

The words Lyanna uttered were clear as a bell and cold as ice, laced with no anger, no resentment, no malicious intentions - only the truth. The queen stood in anger as she looked at Lyanna with fisted hands. _"What do you think you are doing woman?"_ Robert snapped, _"Have you no pride?"_

 _"You boy, are to write a formal apology to your sister. Until I say otherwise Prince Joffery will not be allowed out of his quarters."_ The guards nodded and assisted the prince away whilst the Queen stormed off in anger.

 _"Is that enough to pacify your anger, my child?"_ Robert asked Lyanna in concern.

Lyanna responded coldly to her father, _"of course, your grace."_

When she had returned to her room that night, all she felt was the cold emptiness the vibrant Kings Landing had illustrated in all the stories told within the North. It was only in her dreams where the princess could feel the true warmth. The night was long and she once more dreamt of a what seemed like a fabricated reality. In the distance stood and the figure of a man in burgundy robes, with silver hair and dragons by his side. The warmth that seemed to embrace her as she gazed at the man drew her closer like a moth to a flame. In spite of her relentless acts to reach the man before her, each step she took made her heart feel heavy and further away from reality. She continued to walk towards the figure despite the feeling of being astray until eventually the man disappeared and she was left alone standing on the cliff, watching as the sun was setting on the horizon. The hues of orange, yellow and purple filled the sky. Its beauty was beyond measure to everything she had seen before. _Lyanna..._ the voice whispered. The princess turned to see the man before her. Three dragons perched on his body and a glimpse of a smile on his face. Violet pupils shimmered and the reflection in his eyes mimicked the colours of the sunset. Never were there more bewitching eyes seen by any living being. An echoed resemblance of a voice spoke again as he moved towards her _Zaldrīzes dohaerios_ _iksos daor...Lyanna. The man moved his hand towards her face and place the stray strand of hair behind her ear "skorī dēmlyti timptir tymis, ērinis iā morghūlis."_

* * *

 **Captial city of Vaes Dothrak in the Dothraki Sea 299AC**

The exiled prince, Daemon Targaryen who had nothing but the clothes on his back when he fled Dragonstone had somehow acquired wealth, lands and an army in the span of three years to the dismay of the new monarchy in Kings Landing. The khalasar had arrived in Vaes Dothrak the capital and only city that belonged to the Dothraki Sea to attend the great gathering of Dothraki khalasars, the Khazar Vezhven. It was there that the khals had conspired and conducted murder the khaleesi, despite their sacred traditions of unleashing no blood in their beloved city. Their act of brutality of was more than perturbation to Daemon Targaryen, it was an act of war. She was butchered for no reason other than the fact she was born in a woman's body and ruled as the Khal to the largest khalasar. Her body was laid in the great temple along with the three dragon eggs that were offered to be taken with her to the other world. The khals had stayed in an act to play the front of paying their respects and condolences in front of Daemons khalasar and attend the remaining days of the Khazar Vezhven. During the ritual fulfilled in the temple, Daemon had requested that the High Priestess's of the Dosh Khaleen to conduct their rituals outside the temples along with all the blood riders.

"Ma jinne, ajjin, fin vaese zhokwa jerie Khali Vezhveni? Fin vaesish vemrasoe yeri, finsanney nayat vil ahilee yeri, finsanney hrazef aqaffi yeri k'azhi," Daemon stated as he looked to his wife, and _here, now, what great matters do the Great Khal's discuss? Which little villages you'll raid, how many girls you'll get to fuck, how many horses you'll demand in tribute._ "Yeri mahrazhi zhikwi. Torga yeri, Dothraki yanqosoraan zhikwi. Vos at yeroa venoe idrilat mora anha venok. Majin anha vidrik." Daemon looked at Khal Moro and smirked, _you are small men. Under you, the Dothraki will be a small people. None of you is fit to lead them._ _But I am. So I will._

The khals looked at him, some confused and some infuriated by the prince. "Zhey gech yofi. Hash yer shillo k'athjilari mekisha asilaki yera?" Khal Moro stood and laughed hysterically before his eyes turned sinister and vexed, y _ou crazy cunt, Did you really think we would serve you?_

Yeri vos osili vosecchi. Yeri vadrivoe." The prince's fair hand grasped the large gauntlets and pushed them over, allowing for the blazing flames to escape and spread like wildfire, _you're not going to serve. You're going to die._

Flesh turned to ash and silence had filled the air. All the khalasars had gathered in awe to the temple that was aflame and the High Priestess's of the Dosh Khaleen could only look at their burning temple in horror. Even the skilled and powerful blood riders and Dothraki screamers could do nothing to silence the flames. The doors cracked open and the Prince Daemon Targaryen had walked out of the fire unscathed with three newborn dragons perched on his body. Each khalasar had come to Vaes Dothrak under the leadership of their respective Khals, yet the Dothraki were now all united under one khalasar - one Khal despite the rivalry that had existed between them for centuries.

 _"Blood of my blood,"_ Jorah muttered in awe as he looked at the boy turned man holding dragons before him. It was indeed the begging of a new era - an era of fire and blood. When the Knight kneeled, the blood riders followed and then the thousands of Dothraki gathered.

They had all witnessed the prince best several great Khals and walk out unburnt with three mythical dragons that had not walked the earth for centuries. Daemon was now their Khal and a god reborn in the eyes of the Dothraki who witnessed him reborn by fire.

* * *

 **Death of King Robert I Baratheon, The Red Keep, Kings Landing 299AC**

Robert was indeed a man of talent, being a great warrior, renowned and charismatic in his youth man had aspired to become him. When he had defeated the beloved Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and revoked the longstanding Targaryen Dynasty many were astonished at his accomplishments. Even towards a king, the truth of life is merciless. _Valar Morghulis._ Indeed, all men must die whether they are adorned with jewels or cinders. On his deathbed, Robert still held a proud expression, _"I want to name Lyanna my heir, the Crown Princess Lyanna Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms."_

 _"I have given you a true born son! This is Joffery's birthright. How dare you give it to that Northern_ bastard."

 _"Hold your tongue woman."_ Robert chuckles under his breath, _"true born?"_

Blood seemed drained from Cersei's cheeks, her beautiful complexion and rose touched cheeks were now emptied of warmth and replaced with distraught.

 _"I know what they are."_

 _"What are you trying to imply?"_

He looked at her with a glowering expression, _"I had figured they were the product of adultery but I had never considered they were fathered by your own (twin) brother."_

Cercei's eyes seemed haunted by his words. Robert had known, he had known for a long time. When his _trueborn_ children were compared against his bastards, it was apparent that they bore no resemblance to the king's personality and physical traits. They were naive and weak. And weak men made for weak kings.

" _How did you find out?"_

 _"I had always had my suspicions but disregarded it to allow you to keep your honour. The death of Jon Arryn only confirmed my suspicions. He had left me a letter that sanctioned my suspicions with evidence of your acts of adultery and incest."_

 _"Why had you not called for my head, Jamie, and that of our children."_

Roberts' face was unreadable as he spoke, "do _you expect me to butcher a child that I have raised as my own all these years. You are my queen and wife. If I can not control a woman why should the people have reason to support my claim as king."_

The knock on the door was greeted with the voice of a maiden, _"your grace, Lord Stark the Hand has arrived."_

Cersei made her sullen exit gracefully as Eddard entered the room. The Hand of the King sat down by his side and looked at his dear friend.

 _"Lyanna will soon be the first queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You must be there to guide her in the acts of politics and war."_

Ned wore a wide-eyed expression as he looked to his king. _"You are condemning her to a life of misery if you force her to stay here amongst a pride of lions."_

 _"You once promised Lyanna to keep her daughter safe. Now promise me, your friend, brother, and king that you will keep my daughter safe just as you did to your sister."_

 _"I Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon vow to shield her back and give my life for hers, if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new."_

The bells chimed in the Red Keep, proclaiming the death of King Robert I Baratheon. The Hand of the King had left the kings chambers with his king's guard in search of the crown princess Lyanna. She had been sheltered from the news of her father's fatal injuries and eventual death under the command of the late king. Lyanna was found in the gardens of the Red Keep with Eddard, Bash and their dire wolves. _"What has happened uncle?"_ Lyanna asked.

 _"King Robert has passed. You were proclaimed his heir and crown princess upon his deathbed. Now that your father's death has been proclaimed there will be a shift in power and factions will be formed. Cersei Lannister will not give up until her son is on the throne."_

Eddard held onto his cousin who had now had a morose expression on her ethereal face. Lyanna did not know if she was experiencing feelings of sadness of anger, the princess only knew she once more felt orphaned by those who were meant to love and protect her. _"Hurry child, we must go. I have prepared a ship, you must flee to Essos for refuge until I have settled the politics and uprising civil war. Edd and Bash will accompany you on the journey and you will take the kings guard loyal to Robert and your dire wolves."_

 _"What about your father?"_ Sebastian questioned.

 _"I will stay here and deal with the Lannisters, Tyrells, and Baratheons who wish to stake their claim on the Iron Throne."_

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she ran into her uncle's arms for an embrace, _"I don't want to leave you here alone, in Kings Landing with no one to watch you back."_

Bash looked to Eddard who clung to his arm, _"you always taught us that the lone wolf will never survive winter, father."_ A smile made its way onto his lips as he declared, _"I will stay with you, Lyanna and Eddard will leave for Essos."_

Lyanna was now the rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and rightful monarch to the Iron Throne. Lyanna and Eddard had absconded from the hands of Cersei under the protection from her newly appointed queen's guard. Sounds of moving armour echoed throughout the streets as Lyanna and Eddard ran.

 _"The princess!"_ a guard yelled.

The Knights ushered her and Eddard behind them whilst Ghost and Nymeros growled in defence of their masters. Lyanna had five loyal knights and two dire wolves protecting her against several dozen Lannister men. The Knights fought valiantly despite the odds that they were met with. Ghost and Nymeros Lunged at the men, they gnawed at the men, devouring every man that attempted to attack Lyanna and Eddard. Lyanna had Eddard hidden behind her back, he was still a small boy in her eyes despite the potential skill he wielded. She pulled out her sword and began disarming the guards.

 _"Your grace, you must take the young Lord and run. We will hold them off,"_ the knight yelled.

Several guards lunged at Eddard and Lyanna but were met with the vicious jaws of Nymeros. The guards who escaped his grasped struck the dire wolf with their swords, forcing a yelp from her vocal cords. One by one, each guard brought a lethal blow to the dire wolf who cried in pain. Nymeros fell to the ground, drenched in blood as she looked towards her master and friend.

 _"Nymeros!"_ Eddard screamed.

Lyanna turned to the boy who was now frozen in horror, _"Eddard! Edd, we have to go! If we don't go now Nymeros would have been slaughtered for nothing!"_ She grabbed his hand and they began to run towards the harbour as the Knights stayed to fight against the Lannister men.

 _"We are nearly there Eddard, just a little further."_ She held his hand tighter and pulled him along, sprinting towards the harbour. Ghost stayed near to his master, attacking the guards who chased after them. A sharp sound of an arrow manoeuvred through the air and Lyanna felt the grip on Eddard's hand loosen. _"...Lyanna,"_ Eddard murmured under his breath.

Lyanna turns wide-eyed, _"Edd!"_

Eddard falls to the ground, an arrow pierced through his chest and blood crept from the corner from his mouth - dripping down his jaw as he gasped for air. Lyanna held him in her arms as tears flowed down her cheeks, _"No! No...no, Edd open your eyes, look at me!"_ His eyes flutter open and his lips grasp for another breath of air, _"it hurts Lyanna...I-don't w-want to..."_

 _"You won't Eddard! Stay with me cousin...don not close your eyes..."_ Lyanna cried as she held him in her arm, drenched in his blood and her tears.

His hand moved to her cheek and wiped her tears, _"don't cry...you need to run...get out of here Lyanna..."_

 _"No! I won't leave you! Don't leave me Edd...please..."_

"Valar _morghūlis..."_ The little boy whispered as he drew his last breath in her arms.


	4. War of the Five Kings

**Astapor t** **he Red City in Slaver's Bay, Free Cities, Essos in 300AC**

The Targaryen Dynasty had been formed on the foundation of fire and blood after the Seven Kingdoms were united under its reign, but it was the dragons that were the source of power for the Targaryens and they were fools to lock up the magnificent creatures. The chains that shackled the beast caused their inevitable extinction. The world had not seen a dragon born for over a century until Daemon Targaryen had brought three petrified dragons eggs to life. Each dragon was composed of serpentine bodies, long necks, and tails that were scaled with its own unique colours. The three dragons bore a great resemblance to the largest dragons of the first three generations born, which earned them their names after Balaerion the Black Dread, Vermithor the Bronze Fury and Sunfyre the Golden.

Qarth had been sacked of all the riches and wealth it held by Daemon's Dothraki Screamers after the thirteen had mocked their Khal and threatened to enslave the dragons. The riches belonging to the masters of Qarth had now been traded for a navy fleet, one large enough to sail Daemon and his Khalasar across the sea to Astapor in Slaver's Bay. The journey there had allowed enough time for the dragons to grow the size of large hounds, capable of hunting and scorching their prey themselves. Ser Jorah Mormont had advised Daemon to lead his army to Westeros and attack while the shift in power was still imminent, after the death of Robert Baratheon. To his dismay, Daemon had insisted on walking a different path. Daemon did not want to take back his birthright by force, he did not want to represent the very reason why the noble houses had fought together to have the Mad King to be dethroned. The prince was adamant on conquering the Seven Kingdoms just as his ancestor did by freeing the people from usurpers, tyrants, and masters.

Astapor proved to be a city founded by slavery. Upon arriving in Astapor, Daemon is met with Kraznys mo Nakloz who owned the elite warrior-eunuchs army known as the Unsullied by the laws of Astapor. The princes closest advisor and friend, Ser Jorah had suggested Daemon purchase the Unsullied to strengthen her army and power. Thus allowing for Kraznys mo Nakloz the chance to give Daemon a thorough tour of the city in which he commands and the Unsullied barracks.

The young girl serving Kraznys mo Nakloz acted as a translator and told him of Daemons intention to purchase all ten thousand Unsullied. Kraznys responded in amusement _he can't afford them,_ "do jotas pon eragho."

The prince insisted that he shall have the entire legion of elite eunuch-warriors or none, including those who are currently in training. Missandei translates his words back to Kraznys, "Ivetras tuli sko pon ebilas uni. Ivetras ebilas sizi po Ginilaros uni."

The two master questions how the exiled prince would purchase the Unsullied when Daemon smiled and spoke calmly, "I have dragons. I'll give you one."

 _"No Daemon you can't!"_ Visenya exclaimed as she rushed towards his side, clinging onto her brother's arm.

 _"You will win the throne with dragons, not slaves, your grace."_ Ser Barristan insisted.

Ser Jorah approached the prince, _"Khal, please."_ The prince stood firm in response and glared at his advisor, sister, and kings guard.

 _"Three dragons,"_ Kraznys demanded.

 _"One."_ Daemon retorted.

Kraznys looked at the silver-haired prince before him, _"Two dragons."_

It is said that the old are the wise, but the slave master was not a wise man nor was able to he waver the prince to bartering away more than one of his children. _"One,"_ he uttered firmly in reply.

The slave-trader looked to Missandei and spoke, "Ivetrá zer ebi ji rovaja." _Tell her we want the biggest_ he demanded.

Misssandei translated his and received one single word in reply, _"done."_

 _"Done."_ Kraznys mimicked.

 _"I'll take you as well. Now. You will be master Kraznys gift to me, a token of a bargain well struck."_ Daemon uttered. Kraznys mo Nakloz grinned in agreeance.

The prince headed out of the estate with Ser Jorah Mormont, Ser Barristan Selmy, his sister Visenya Targaryen, and the translator slave Missandei.

 _"Khal, a dragon is worth more than any army,"_ pleaded Ser Jorah.

 _"Aegon Targaryen proved that,"_ Ser Barristan added. Daemon had become infuriated by his men questioning his authority as if he were some child who knew nothing of war and politics, _"you are both here to advise me, I value your advice. But if you ever question me in front of strangers again you will be advising someone else."_ After speaking to the two knights, the prince turned to look at his sister before beckoning the slave to his side and storming away.

 _"Do you have a name?"_ Daemon questioned.

 _"This one's name is Missandei, your grace,"_ she replies as her head hung low.

 _"Do you have a family? A mother and father you would return to if you had the choice."_

Missandei hung her head low at the thought of a reality in which she was not orphaned - not a slave.

The prince responded to her silence with a piercing statement, _"you belong to me now. It is your duty to tell me the truth."_

 _"Yes your grace. Lying is a great offence. Many on the walk of punishment were taken there for less."_

 _"I offered water to one of the slaves who were dying on the walk of punishment. Do you know what he said to me?"_ Daemon paused and looked at the girl, _"let me die."_

"There are no masters in the grave, your grace."

 _"Is it true what Master Kraznys told me about the unsullied - about their obedience?"_

 _"All questions have been taken from them. They obey that is all. Once they are yours, they are yours. They will fall on their swords if you command it."_

 _"And what about you? I'm taking you to war, you may go hungry, you may go sick, you may be killed,"_ he murmured calmly.

Daemon and his people made their way to the main estate of the Good Masters of Astapor where the Unsullied gathered under the order of Master Kraznys. The city was adorned by the sigil of the Harpy, on the armour of the guard, the crests on the gates and a monumental statue, representing the ancient Ghiscari Empire. A few Dothraki men carried in the crate where his dragon laid and placed it before Kraznys and the other masters. Daemon walked towards the crate and grabbed the staff linked to a chain that revealed a black dragon, ferocious and eager to take flight. The black dragon waved his wings as he hovered in the sky, intimidating all the people below. The prince had bartered the largest of his dragons, Balaerion, in exchange for the Unsullied army. With the whip now in hand, the deal was done, yet Daemon felt the need for confirmation from the slave-traders mouth himself, _"is it done then? Do they belong to me?"_

Kraznys looks at the beast in awe, "sa tida," _it is done._

The smile on Daemons lips changed into a smirk as he walked towards the Unsullied, "Dovaogēdys! Naejot memēbātās! Kelītīs!" Daemon High Valyrian was fluent and clear as a bell, chiming the words _Unsullied! Forward march! Halt!_ Trained to do as their master commanded, each and every one of the unsullied marched and halted at his beckon.

"Ivetrá j'aspo, zya dyni do majis", Kraznys stated, who grew frustrated when the dragon did not do as he commanded.

Kraznys was indeed not a smart man, for a smart man would know that _a dragon is not a slave._ Daemon turned to look at the man who struggled to control Balaerion, "Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor."

"Ydra ji Valyre?" he asked in shock horror. Daemon did not speak common Valyrian like the Good Masters of Astapor, who had diluted the ancient aristocratic language. The prince spoke High Valyrian, a language known to few after the Doom of Valyria.

Daemon smiled charmingly in response _I am Daemon Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue_ it would be rather odd if he had not known High Valyrian. "Nyke Daemon Jelmāzmo hen Targārio Lentrot, hen Valyrio Uēpo ānogār iksan. Valyrio muño ēngos ñuhys issa." He turned towards the Unsullied and spoke in High Valyrian once more U _nsullied! Slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!_ , "Dovaogēdys! Āeksia ossēnātās, menti ossēnātās, qilōni pilos lue vale tolvie ossēnātās, yn riñe dōre ōdrikātās. Urnet luo buzdaro tolvio belma pryjātās!"

Kraznys roared in anger, demanding that the Unsullied drop their swords. Before the wise master could command his men to attack Daemons Unsullied, the prince turned to smile towards Balaerion, "dracarys." The dragon poured fire from his breath turning Kraznys into an image of ash and smoke, frozen in time.

One by one, the masters fell and the city of Astapor became drenched in the blood of the rich. The city was sacked and the keys left to the very people who have been enslaved since birth, to now control their own lives as free individuals. After completing the command from the master the unsullied stood back into formation. Daemon walked towards them with Ser Jorah, Ser Baristan and his sister by his side.

A Dothraki rider came towards them with a white stallion for his call to which the prince mounted and rode it towards the Unsullied soldiers, "Jevo glaesoti rȳ buzdari istiat. Kesy tubi jemot dāervi tepan. Henujagon jaelza lua vala mirre henujagon kostas, se daorys ziry ōdrikilza. Jemot kivio ñuhe tepan." Each word spoken was the truth, he had no intention of enslaving these men, only to give the people of Essos the freedom of will and control of their own life which he felt he was born without. _Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. I give you my word._ _You have been slaves all your life. Today I give you freedom._

No one walked away from the prince that day. Each and every one of the Unsullied stood their ground in black armour, shield and spear in hand. The act of loyalty brought a smile to Daemons face, "Yne sytivīlībilāt? Hae dāero valoti?" _Will you fight for me? As free men?_ Would they sacrifice their freedom to fight for a foreign king? No, they would not. The Unsullied would be fighting for Daemon Targaryen the Breaker of Chains, the person they owed their freedom. They would be fighting for something bigger than themselves. The elite army of eunuchs bred and trained to become Unsullied were no longer bound by shackles or threats, they were free men with the ability to choose. And yet, they did not, evident when the sound of spears colliding into the sand began to erupt. They had responded to Daemons call, united as one to fight for his cause. Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan smiled at the man who had now become a conqueror. Visenya on the other hand, as mad as she seemed showed signs of true bliss as she smiled from ear to ear at her brother's accomplishments. With the army they held, no one would dare to question their claim to the throne or the Targaryen blood that ran through their veins. The exiled Targaryen prince and princess who had nothing but the clothes on their back and a fortunate family name now had land, riches, armies, and dragons.

Astapor had been freed of Masters and in return, Daemon left with the Unsullied now loyal to him not as slaves but as free men. The Unsullied and Dothraki army followed closely behind Daemon as they marched out of the Red City with Balaerion, Sunfyre and Vermirthor flying overhead. This was only the beginning to Daemons journey to conquer Essos and take back the Seven Kingdoms.

 _"These are the ones?"_ Daemon asked as he walked towards Missandei.

 _"Yes, Khal. These are the officers,"_ she responded.

Daemon's armies had been marching for days to make their way towards Yunkai. This was the first chance in which the prince finally had the chance to speak with the Unsullied properly. "Keso glaesot iderēptot daor. Yn dāeri vali sīr issi. Se dāeri vali pōntalo syt gaomoti iderēbzi." _You did not choose this life._ _But you are free men now. And free men make their own choices,_ the prince's High Valyrian and laced with a plea for the Unsullied to understand what it means to truly be free.

"Jenti jevi jemēle iderēbilātās, qogrondo jevo hēdrȳ." _You will select your own leader, from amongst your own ranks_ and without hesitation, the Unsullied soldiers moved to the side to reveal one soldier who stood firm.

The Khal beckoned him to come forward, _remove your helmet,_ "Geltī aōhe nādīnās." He then questioned _what is your name, "_ Skoroso jemēle brōzā?"

"Torgo Nudho." he responded.

Daemon looked at the young man astounded by the words and repeated them as to assure himself he had not heard wrong, "torgo Nudho."

"All unsullied boys are given new names when they are cut, grey worm, red flea, black rat. Names that remind them of what they truly are - vermin." Missandei explained.

"Hēzīr, brōza jevi jemēle iderēbilātās. Mentyri idañe jevi ivestrilātās keskydoso gaomagon. Gadbag aōhe qrīdrughās. Muñar aōt teptas lue brōzi, iā mirre tolie iderēbās. Avy hoskas lue brōzi." Daemon expressed the disdain for the names clearly in his command, from _this day forward, you will choose your own names. You will tell all your fellow soldiers to do the same. T_ _hrow away your slave name. Choose the name your parents gave you or any other. A name that gives you pride._ The prince did not want to see men, called by names with the purpose to degrade their pride and honour.

"Torgo Nudho" hokas bezy. Sa me broji beri. Ji broji ez bezo sene stas qimbroto. Kuny iles ji broji meles esko mazedhas derari va buzdar. Y Torgo Nudho sa ji broji ez bezy eji tovi Daenerys Jelmazmo ji teptas ji derve." _Grey worm gives this one pride, it is a lucky name_ he told the prince. _The nae this oe was bron with was cursed. That was the name he had when he was taken as a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one had the day Daemon Stormborn set him free._

The legions of Unsullied and Dothraki followed Daemons conquest of Essos as they journeyed to Yunkai known as the Yellow City, one of the three great Dhiscari city-states of Slaver's Bay. The prince had commanded Grey worm to send a man to the city gates to tell the Wise Masters that he would receive the slavers here and accept their surrender. _Otherwise, Yunkai will suffer the same fate as Astapor._

It was strange to see a Dothraki horde at the gates of a city and not have it sacked. Instead, Daemons Khalasar had made camp on the outskirts of Yunkai, with the Unsullied standing guard over the safety of their king. The Wise Masters sent Razdal mo Eraz to represent them along with chests of gold and ships in exchange, the Dragon Lord would leave them to conduct their own affairs in peace. Despite his extravagant and powerful demeanour, Razdal mo Eraz was terrified at the sight of the three dragons who perched near their master. Bars of gold were displayed before the prince in large chests adorned with gems and crystals.

 _"Is this all you have to offer?"_ Visenya spoke with a chuckle.

The wise master looked to the beautiful Targaryen Princess in awe, _"there is far more awaiting you on the deck of your ship."_

 _"My ship?"_ Daemon questioned.

 _"Yes Khal, the Yunaki are a generous people. You will have as many ships as you require."_

 _"And what do you ask, in return for these ships."_

 _"All we ask is that you make use of these ships. Sail them back to Westeros where you belong and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace."_

Daemon chuckled at his demands and grabbed a piece of meat from a platter, throwing it in the air causing the three adolescent dragons to take flight-quarrelling for the piece of meat. Razdal mo Eraz grew wide-eyed and shivered in fear at the savage nature of the dragons. _"I also have a gift for you as well - your life and that of your Wise Masters but I also want something in return. You will free every slave in Yunkai, every man, woman, and child should be given as much food, clothing, and property as they can carry. As payment for their years of servitude."_

The smile on Daemons lips enraged the wise master as he stood from his seat, _"You are mad. We are not Astapor or Qarth. We are Yunkai and we have powerful friends. Friends who would take great pleasure in destroying you. Those who survive we shall enslave once more. Perhaps we will make a slave of you."_

Balaerion flew to his master's side protectively. The black dragon revealed his sharp fangs as he growled violently towards Razdal mo Eraz. _"You swore me safe conduct!"_

 _"I did, but my dragons made no promises and you threatened their master."_

 _"Take the gold!"_ The wise master yelled beckoning his slaves to retrieve the chests. To his words, Balaerion immediately perched himself upon the chest gnashing his jaw towards the men.

 _"My gold, you gave it to me remember? And I shall put it to good use, you would be wise to do the same with my gift to you. It would be a pity to see such a great city to fall under your watch."_ The prince spoke calmly with a smile on his lips but a malicious look in his violet eyes, _"now get out."_

Razdal mo Eraz had returned to Yunkai that night and informed the Wise Masters of Daemons demands. The Wise Masters of Yunkai was not as wise as the claimed, for that night they had declared war against Daemon Targaryen. Yunkai was sacked before dawn and Daemons army of Unsullied and Dothraki stood their ground outside the gates. The wise master's heads were placed on pikes displayed along the walls of Yunkai as slaves began flooding through the gates to meet the man who liberated them.

Missandei stepped forward and spoke low-valyrian to the slaves of Yunkai, _"this is Daemon Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Unburnt, the King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, the Dragon Lord, It is to him you owe your freedom."_

 _"No."_ Daemon cautioned. The slaves before him seemed more afraid of him than they had ever been towards a master. A foreign king had freed them from the chains the masters of Yunkai had placed, to replace the old with the new. Instead, the prince had uttered words they thought would not be heard in their lifetime, _"you do not owe me your freedom. I cannot give it to you. Your freedom is not mine to give. It belongs to you and you alone. If you want it back, you must take it for yourselves. Each and every one of you."_

 _"Kivio Dārilaros,"_ a man spoke raising his hand in the air as if to reach high enough to touch Daemons being. The slaves began approaching the prince, each uttering the words _Kivio Dārilaros._

 _"What does it mean?"_ Visenya asked.

Missandei murmured into the prince's ear, _"it is old Ghiscari, your grace. It means...the prince who was promised..."_

As the crowd drew closer to Daemons proximity, Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan began to draw their blades. _"It's alright, these people won't hurt me,"_ the prince affirmed, placing a hand onto Balaerions scales, he looked at Sunfyre and Vermithor who stood by their brother's side as he whispered to the dragons, _"sōves."_ The dragons began to arch their wings before taking flight, circulating the crowd and displaying their power.

Unfamiliar feelings settled in Daemons body, forming the urge to walk amongst the people. An act uncommon to the highborn, let alone a member of a royal house of the King to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. The prince thought this must have been the feeling his brother felt when he had walked amongst the people. They all gathered around the prince who was unarmed and not guarded by his men. _"Kivio Dārilaros,"_ they spoke as the crowd lifted the prince into the air.

The image of the prince carried by slaves scorched into the minds of Ser Jorah, Ser Basrristan and his sister Visenya. It was the display of Aegon the Conquerer and the Crown Prince Rhaegar reborn. He would not take back his crown because his father was the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen, he would take back his birthright by conquering Essos and Westeros because he wielded the power to do so.

* * *

 **The Gardens of the Red Keep, Kings landing 300AC**

 _"You must eat my Lord,"_ the princess beckoned, ushering maids towards Sebastian with plates of lemon cakes, braised pigeon, and bread.

Bash heart felt heavy with the thoughts of his father, brothers, and cousin in mind. _"Princess Myrcella, forgive me but I do not wish to break my fast."_

 _"We are betrothed, my love. I do not wish to see you so sullen,"_ the princess consoled, reaching her hand to touch the cheek of the young man.

He turned to her heartbroken and irate, _"my father was beheaded under the command of your brother with the false pretences of treason. My brother was massacred by your men, his head sewn onto the body of his butchered dire wolf. My cousin, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was hunted down by your men, her life, and safety unknown. Lyanna could be dead in an alleyway, murdered, defiled, raped, sold like a broodmare and you sit here in your silk dresses caring about who should not starve."_

 _"Joffery would not dare to touch you, with me here."_

 _"My brother has called his bannermen, your uncles are in open rebellion. The North and South are at war. We are no longer on the same side Myrcella."_

 _"We are betrothed, our families will make amends."_

 _"This betrothal is a facade. It is to ensure the survival of the Lannister clan by hanging a sword above my head. There is only one Stark in Kingslanding, and I would gladly give my life to prevent my brother from wavering when the war begins."_

The princess' face becomes distraught with the thought of her beloved dead. "No!"

 _"Forgive me, my lady, I would like to visit the Gods Wood."_ Sebastian stood from his seat and stormed off with guards at his heel. The princess Myrcella felt at lost to his words and actions, what could she do to protect the man she loved, when she had already asked her mother to allow her to marry the Stark. Myrcella made her way to the Queen Regents bedchambers.

 _"Mother,"_ Myrcella called.

Cersei beckoned her maids to give herself and the princess some privacy. _"My dear, what is it?"_

Tears rolled down Myrcellas cheeks as she sobbed in her mother's arms, _"is it true? Is it true that you want to bargain with Sebastian's life..."_

 _"Where did you hear of this?"_

 _"Tell me, mother, is it true?"_

 _"The war of the Five Kings has begun, we must protect our family and legacy. House Lannister must not fall."_

Myrcella was perplexed at her mother's words, _"so it is true...you plan on using my beloved as a bargaining chip for your own advantage...you are just as cruel as Joffery..."_

" _You are my beloved daughter, nothing will come of you."_

The princess shook her head as she stepped away from her mother, _"I will never forgive you if you if anything happens to him!"_ She grabbed her silk skirts and stormed out from her mothers quarters with tears rolling down her cheeks. Myrcella was adamant on protecting him, at all cost to her own life. It was indeed a sweet gesture to protect Lord Stark but he was still a wolf amongst the pride of lions. All watching eagerly for a chance to separate his head from his body.

* * *

 **Winterfell, The North, the Seven Kingdoms 300AC**

The leaders of the Great Northern houses have gathered at the seat of House Stark, Winterfell. After the events in Kings Landing, House Reed, House Glover, House Mormont, House Umber, House Manderly, House Flint, House Wull, House Norrey, House Liddle, House Tully, and House Westerling, all swore their swords to Robb Starks cause after the execution of Lord Stark and the brutal murder of Eddard Stark.

Jonos Bracken stands, _"The proper course is clear - pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with his."_

 _"Renly is not the king,"_ Robb commented.

 _"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord. He put your father to death."_ Jonos Bracken questions in awe at the young Lord of Winterfell.

 _"That doesn't make Renly king. He's Robert's youngest brother."_ Robb looks to Jonos Bracken and then to his men, _"if Sebastian can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can't be king before Stannis."_

 _"Do you mean to declare us for Stannis?"_ Jonos Bracken coaxed.

Galbart Glover added, _"Renly is not right!_ lf _we put ourselves behind Stannis…"_

The Greatjon Umber stands and walks towards Jonos Bracken and Robb Stark causing everyone to silence, _"My Lords. My Lords! Here is what l say to these two kings. Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong! Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?_ lt _was the dragons we bowed to and now the dragons are dead!"_ Greatjon Umber pulls out his sword and points it towards Robb who had grown fond of the brooding expression his father had always worn. _"There sits the only king l mean to bend my knee_ to _\- the King in the North!"_

The respected Lord of House Umber had bowed to Robb - acknowledging the young man as the King in the North and the heir to the seat of Winterfell, a true Stark. He unsheathes his sword before the Lords of the great Northern houses declaring fealty to House Stark. Robb stands at his words, looking at the great Lord who knelt before him as the act of declaring fealty begins to spread. Rickard Karstark stands and exclaims, _"I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their Red Castle and their iron chair too,"_ he unsheaths his sword and bows before Robb

There had been no king in the North since his ancestor Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon I Targaryen and the Starks became Warden in the North. The words, King of Winter that was once used by the ancient Stark Monarchs could now be uttered under the King in the North, Robb Stark.

Theon Greyjoy came before Robb and questions, _"Am l your brother, now and always?"_

 _"Now and always,"_ Robb replies to which Theon _takes out his sword, bows to Robb_ _"My sword is yours in victory and defeat, from this day until my last day."_

 _"The King in the North!"_ Greatjon Umber declares initiating the other great Lords and men to chant The King in the North, declaring the sword and life to his cause.


	5. Bay of Dragons

**Meereen, Slaver's Bay, Essos 300AC**

Following the liberation of Yunkai, Daemon had led his Dothraki Khalasar and legion of Unsullied to free the slave population of the Meereen. The prince had conquered, Qarth, Astapor, and Yunkai allowing the stories of his dragons and the battles he won to spread throughout Essos like wildfire. With each city that fell, men, women and even children had offered to fight for Daemons cause to return their gratitude to their saviour. Meereen was the northernmost and greatest of the three cities of the Bay of Dragons. The city-state proved to be more large and extravagant than Astapor or Yunkai. Each master residing in Meereen had three slaves under his command, each slave was of importance and worth saving in the prince's eyes. The arrival of Daemon Targaryen, Dragon Lord was met with great disdain as the Meereenese sent out a champion to fight.

 _"Are they attacking?"_ Daemon questioned as the gate to Meereen opens.

 _"A single rider - a champion of Meereen."_ Ser Jorah replies, _"they want you to send your own champion against them."_

Daemon turned to his men, _"do I have a champion?"_

Grey worm steps forward, "Yn teba kiza rigle, Zaldrizes āeksio." _Allow me the honour, Dragon Lord_ he asked.

Daemon looked at him with a smile, _"you are the commander of the Unsullied. I cannot risk you."_

 _"Your grace, I have won more single-combats than any man alive."_ Ser Barristan insisted.

 _"Which is why you must remain by my side."_

Ser Jorah steps forward to by boy he had seen grown into a man, _"I have been by your side longer than any of them, Khal. Let me stand for you today as well."_

The prince smiled at the knight, _"You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, and my dearest friend. I will not gamble with your life.'_

 _"Then whos life will you gamble with, dear brother, if you expect to silence that one,"_ Visenya snickered as she pointed towards the Meerenese champion.

 _"Mine."_

 _"Your grace-"_ Ser Barristan pleas.

 _"Do you think of me weak Ser Barristan?"_ Daemon inquired.

 _"Of course not your grace, but it is my responsibility to ensure your safety."_

Visenya looked to Ser Barristan, _"you may be the commander of my brother's Kings guard but you know little about him. You were not the first to train him, nor was Ser Jorah. My brother has trained with countless Lords, knights, blood riders, and commoners who have made a mockery of themselves against him."_

Daemon stepped forward, bow and arrow were placed in his hand as the Meereenese champion charged towards him. The prince pulled the trigger and made his aim, the hearts of his council raced as the champion grew nearer. A flicker of a smile appeared on Daemons face as he released the arrow. The sharp arrowhead collided into the eye of the white stallion, bringing it screaming to the ground. Sand mixed into the hot air upon his fall, forming a cloud of red dust that obstructed the champions sight. The prince dropped the bow he held to the ground and drew the ancient Targaryen blade, Blackfyre and walked into the red cloud of sand and dust. Daemon had slit the man's throat as an example to the Masters of Meereen. As the cloud of red dust and sand settled Daemon turned to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan who stood there with a proud smile on their faces.

"Daemon Jelmāzmo iksan. Kostilus jevi āeksia yno bē pirtra jemot vestretis, iā daoruni jemot vestretis. Daoriot jemas. Doriar udra pōnto syt eman. Mērī jemī ivestran. Ēlī Astaprot istan. Astaprot dohaertrossa sīr yno inkot iōrzi, dāeri. Hembar Yunkaihot istan. Yunkaihī dohaertrossa sīr yno inkot iōrzi, dāeri. Sesīr Mirinot mastan. Jevys qrinuntys ikson daor. Jevys qrinuntys jemo paktot issa. Jevys qrinuntys jevor riñar laodissis ossēnīs. Jevys qrinuntys jemo syt mērī belma se boteri se udrāzmī ēzi. Udrāzmī jemot maghon daor. Iderennon maghan. Se jevo qrinuntoti pōjor gūrotriri maghan." The prince looked to the Meereenese slaves with endearment in his eyes I _am Daemon Stormborn. Your masters may have told you lies about me, or they may have told you nothing. It does not matter. I have nothing to say to them. I speak only to you._ _First, I went to Astapor. Those who were slaves in Astapor now stand behind me, free. Next, I went to Yunkai. Those who were slaves in Yunkai now stand behind me, free. Now I have come to Meereen. I_ _am not your enemy. Your enemy is beside you. Your enemy steals and murders your children. Your enemy has nothing for you but chains and suffering and commands. I do not bring you commands. I bring you a choice. And I bring your enemies what they deserve._

Daemon commanded his men forward, as they revealed catapults with large barrels placed ready to be aimed. "Naejot."

"Nābēmātās!" The words for _fire_ were called and the men pulled the trigger allowing barrels to be catapulted towards the buildings of Meereen. Each barrel shattered to reveal chains and shackles of the slave's Daemon had freed. The Meereenes slaves were in awe to the sight, the foreign prince was no liar, he was no tyrant or savage like the Masters of Meereen had claimed. He was truly the Dragon Lord stories had told, the breaker of chains, the prince that was promised.

* * *

 **Pentos, The Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

 _"My lady,"_ Varys addressed.

 _"I am not a lady nor am I a princess...I shouldn't even be alive..."_ Lyanna murmured. Her heart felt heavy at the reminder of what she had become. All the events that have occurred to lead to the demise of those she loved. Robb had declared war against the crown and Sebastian was held captive in the Red Keep of Kings Landing. _"I want to go home. I want to return to Winterfell."_

 _"Lord Stark had placed you under my protection. He told me to take you to Essos where no Westerosi ruler would dare to invade. This is the safest place for you my dear."_

 _"We have been here for months, what does your friend want in return for acting as my benefactor. He is an ally to the Targaryen prince, does he not want to take my life?"_

Varys laughed in amusement at her words, _"you have a great role to play in the wars to come. You are the Crown Princess Lyanna Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne. It would definitely be wise of the prince to have you murdered."_

 _"And whats stopping him?"_

 _"All of Westeros thinks you are dead, why would Daemon Targaryen say otherwise when he has never known you. Even so, Cersei Lannister has put a warrant on your head, do not tell anyone of your name."_

 _"What of Ghost, my dire wolf?"_

 _"I presume he has returned to Winterfell, to his home. It would be odd if a dire wolf were seen in Essos where even water is scarce."_

Lyanna stood from her chair and paced back and forth. _"This place, these silks, these pieces of jewellery...are all foreign. I wish to go home Varys. My uncle, my...cousin...they are dead. Now, the North is at war with the South. I need to be with my family."_

 _"And what will you do when you return to Winterfell? Will you ride out to battle? Claim the Iron Throne?" Varys looked to the princess as he coaxed, "how do you intend to take back the throne, serve the justice and revenge you intend without an army, lands or wealth."_

The princess stopped her pacing and looked out at sea, _"what do you have in mind?"_

 _"There is someone who despises the usurper just as much as you but he is also someone who would wish you dead for being the daughter of Robert Baratheon."_

 _"Daemon Targaryen...dragon lord..."_ Lyanna murmured under her breath. The honourable Lord Eddard Stark had always told her the lone wolf dies and the pack survives. In this foreign land, she was a lone wolf but the princess would not die because half of her is something else. Something more powerful than any wolf, stag or lion.

Varys placed a letter onto the table in front of Lyanna. The princess looked at the man before extending her hand out to grab the letter. It seemed strange to her that Varys would hand her a letter when it was more of his character to reveal secrets verbally. Tears welled up in her eyes when she saw the Stark sigil on the letter, _"what is this..?"_

He had taken a moment to think of the appropriate words to convey. The spider had read the words in the letter, just as he would any other that fell into his hand. This particularly was only differentiated in the secrets it seemed to hide. _"Lord Stark had entrusted this letter to me before the execution."_

Her fingers brushed over the Dire Wolf sigil of house stark embedded in a red wax seal placed on the opening of the letter. Lyannas breaths were sporadic as she broke the wax to reveal the letter that caused her to question what her uncle's last words may be.

 _My dear, Lyanna._

 _I write to you with a heavy heart and mind, to know the treacherous path that lays before you. The day I cradled you back to Winterfell may have been the start to my undoing. Yet keeping my promise to my beloved sister allowed me to raise you, my pride and joy. When you arrive in Essos, find a man named Alistair Coyne, he was once a friend to your father and will care for you as his own. It is my wish that you do not embark on a journey of vengeance, for hatred poisons the heart. Lyanna, you must always remember hatred gives the individual importance and power over you, never let anyone subjugate your actions. Live a life of your own, you may forsake your identity as a lady and princess but always remember you are half Stark no matter what you may become. The North remembers the Southern Princess raised in Winterfell._

 _With all my love, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of King Robert I Baratheon._

The letter had been stained with tears before Lyanna had read the last words written. _The North remembers the Southern Princess raised in Winterfell._ Words that drew memories hidden in the depths of her mind. Lord Stark had always strived to protect the innocence of her child, he had made sure his niece would be raised as a Lady, a warrior, and a Stark. If only she could bring back the moments of happiness in Winterfell which had now seemed so foreign and long ago.

 _"What will you do now, your grace?"_ Varys murmured.

Lyanna looked at the letter in her hands, _"I will find this man my uncle spoke of."_

 _"Alistair Coyne has not been seen since Roberts Rebellion but my birds have heard rumours of the healer residing in Volantis."_

 _"Do you know what kind of a man he was?"_

 _"He was friends with many nobles in his youth, in particular, the royal family. I assume his friendship with your father was never publicised."_ Varys paused and gaped at the princess who was looking at the letter diligently, _"I will be returning to Westeros before sunset."_

The princess peaked at his words, _"what of me?"_

 _"I have made preparations for your journey to Volantis, guards, handmaidens, and gold."_

 _"I am no longer a princess Varys, your acts of protection will only pronounce me to thieves and murders. I will travel to Volantis alone."_

 _"Your grace-"_

 _"If you truly think of me as your monarch, then you will obey my commands."_

Varys looked at the young girl who now had a controlled demeanour, _"of course, your grace."_

* * *

 **The Red Keep Kings Landing 300AC**

Once the seat of great kings, the Red Keep had now been transformed into an obnoxious palace adorned by crystals, silk and gold to express the expensive taste of the new boy king. The palace had now seemed like a residence for ghosts and lost soles. Perhaps it was due to the boy kings erratic temperament that enforced the servants to hold their tongues more tightly than ever. Queen Dowager Cersei, _nee_ Lannister of House Baratheon, had replaced her brute of a husband with her firstborn on with the intentions of ruling the Seven Kingdoms through him. The beautiful widowed queen would have never imagined her son was more alike to the Mad Targaryen King then herself or her brother. Perhaps the only reason why Joffery felt content in the entertainment of screams and tears of others was how it reinforced how much power the boy king indeed wielded. Afterall no matter his attempts to gain love, attention and affirmed from his father the late king, Robert had always seemed to eschew from his son. Despite Joffery had indeed bore a gold crown and a temperament of a tyrant the whispers of his mother's acts of incest and the true blood that ran through his veins were still discussed within the commoners and nobles of Westeros. The dilapidated state of Joffrey's reign instigated his grandfather Lord Tywin of House Lannister, the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West being placed as Hand of the King in attempt to simmer down his temperament. In the absence of the boy king, his father and hand had called for a small council meeting to discuss the new regime placed under Jofferys reign.

Prince Oberyn Martell who represented his brother Prince Doran Martell in the small council meeting now spoke for the favour of Dorne. Even with his newly found prestigious role in Kings Landing, Oberyn could not abandon his true intentions-the vengeance his saught for years after the brutal murder of his beloved sister and her children. _"These meetings aren't always going to be this early are they?"_ The charming prince looked over to the Cersei who was now pacing back and forth, " _I was up last night."_

The other council members looked at him in disdain as he spoke once more, _"so, does this mean I am the Master of something now? Coins, ships-"_

 _"Lord Tywin and I already determined that I should be Master of Ships, long before you,"_ declared Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Paramount of the Reach and Warden of the South. The council members stood in respect as Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King entered the room. All but Prince Oberyn Martell who held a smirk on his lips as he played with the ring on his finger. _"-Lord Tywin, it's a great honour to have been granted a seat on this council,"_ Mace Tyrell resigned.

 _"We only have the morning for the affairs of state. Shall we begin?"_ Tywin proclaimed, ignoring Lord Tyrell's compliments as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Varys looked to Tywin and calmly spoke, _"Sandor Clegane has been spotted in the Riverlands, my Lord."_

 _"A coward and a traitor,"_ Cersei asserted.

 _"My bird tells me the Hound slaughtered five of our soldiers,"_ Varys added looking at Tywin, " _I believe the phrase fuck the king was uttered."_

The Grand Master shook his head in response as he murmured, _"disgraceful."_

 _"What would it take to make the common soldier stupid enough to try his luck with the Hound?"_ Tywin questioned looking at the Master of Whispers

 _"Ten silver stags seems a generous bounty,"_ suggested Varys.

 _"Make it a hundred."_ Tywin looked to Cersei who held a distasteful expression, _"what else?"_

 _"More whispers from the East, my Lord."_

Tywin glanced at Varys, speaking with a scornful tone, _"the Targaryen boy?"_

Varys nodded, " _Daemon has taken up residence in Meeren. He has conquered the city and rules as its Emperor."_

 _"Conquered with what?"_ Cersei questioned intrigued by the news.

 _"He commands an army of Unsullied, my queen, some ten thousand strong. He has the united forces of all the Dothraki Hordes, each blood rider willing to kill for him, and has now made allies of the company of sellswords - the Second Suns. He has two knights advising him, Ser Jorah Mormomnt and Barristan Selmy."_ Varys paused, _"and he has three dragons."_

Cersei smiled and gave a belittling response, _"baby dragons."_

A grin was placed on Varys lips as he rebutted, _"larger every year, your Grace."_

 _"Mormont is spying on him or us,"_ the Grand Master murmured.

 _"No longer,"_ The Master of Whisperers shook his head before looking at Tywin, _"he appears to be fully devoted to his newfound king. As for Ser Barristan, it would seem he took his dismissal from the Kingsguard a bit harder than anticipated."_

 _"He's an old man, he isn't fit to protect my son."_ Cersei's words were greeted with derision and disregard for the anointed knight.

 _"He has was a member of the Kings Guard and Lord Commander before Joffery was even conceived, dismissing him was as insulting as it was stupid."_ Tywin lectured.

Cersei turned to her father and averred, _"don't tell me you're worried about a child halfway across the world."_

 _"A child with two seasoned warriors counselling her and a powerful army at his back, your Grace,"_ Varys commented.

 _"Lord Varys is right."_ Prince Oberyn emitted. _"I have been to Essos and seen the Unsullied firsthand. They are very impressive on the battlefield, less so in the bedroom. The Dothraki, on the other hand, seem to excel in a myriad of things, it would not be wise to fight them in an open field."_

Tywins glowered expression formed a silence within the room, _"dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time."_ The Hand of the King paused before looking towards Vays, _"he must be dealt with."_

 _"How, my lord? By force?"_ The Grand Master questioned.

 _"Eventually, if it comes to that."_ Tywin sighed, _"if that is all, the meeting adjourned."_

The first to stand was Cersei who stood and glared at Varys as if she known he had facilitated the escape and refuge of Lyanna Baratheon. To her dismay, Varys held onto the image he portrayed firmly and paid her the respects of a Queen Dowager and made his way out of the council room. Prince Oberyn followed closely behind before his steps began to falter as his eyes encountered the Iron Throne. Feelings of anguish rushed through his being when the thought of his beloved sister arose. The last time he was before the Iron Throne was when he had come to Kings Landing to attend the wedding of Princess Elia Martell and Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

Varys turned to glance at Prince Oberyn, a glance that seemed as though he had the intention of leading Prince Oberyn to the very place he held vexation for. _"Prince Oberyn,"_ Varys acknowledge.

 _"Lord Varys,"_ Oberyn replied.

 _"-only Varys. I'm not actually a nobleman, no one is under any obligation to call me lord,"_ Varys insisted with a smile.

Prince Oberyn smirked at his words, _"and yet everyone does."_

Perhaps it was due to the power Varys wielded that everyone insisted on calling him, Lord. In truth Varys did enjoy the sound of the word in his ears, it was much different from what he was labelled as a child, sold and butchered by a red priestess. He smiled in response and looked sternly at the prince, _"you seem quite knowledgeable about the Unsullied, did you spend much time in Essos?"_

 _"Five years."_

 _"May I ask why?" Varys questioned._

 _Oberyn looked at Varys with a smirk,"'Tis a big and beautiful world. Most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born and never get to see any of it. I don't want to be most of us."_

 _"Most of us aren't princes."_

 _"You are from Essos. Where? Lys?"_ Oberyn turned the ring on his fingers as he looked at the perturb expression playing on Varys face, _"I have an ear for accents."_

 _"I've lost my accent entirely,"_ Varys affirmed.

 _"I have an ear for that as well. How did you get here?"_

Varys looked to the ground his heart felt heavy at the horrific memories that ran through his mind. A sigh escaped his lips and his eyes returned to look at the prince, _"it's a long story."_

 _"One you don't like telling people."_

 _"Only the people I trust."_

 _"And what of the wolf princess, whom you facilitated the escape and refuge of?"_

The words silenced Varys quick tongue. It seemed Prince Oberyn played more attention and held more wit than the common folk had whispered.

 _"What are you contemplating?"_ Oberyn looked to Varys who had now turned to look at the Iron Throne, _"she is but only a girl."_

 _"A girl with a claim to the Iron Throne and a role to play in the war to come,"_ Varys proclaimed as he stared at the Iron Throne.

* * *

 **Meereen, Bay of Dragons, Essos 300AL**

The inlet in Gulf of Grief, the vast Summer Sea is once known as Slaver Bay was now proclaimed as the Bay of Dragons in honour of the Dragon Lord. Where the city of Meereen had now become the new seat of the Targaryen House. Daemon had spent several months forging a path through Essos, conquering the nearby cities, determined to liberate all slaves. The young king had now amassed an army of two hundred and seventy thousand men, including his Unsullied, Dothraki, Second Suns and those who pledged allegiance to him after he had conquered their city. He now had, Eastern Essos, Qarth, Lhazar, Bay of Dragons and Ghiscar, The Shivering Sea, Valyrian Peninsula the Dothraki Sea and the Kingdom of Sarnor under the fold of what would be known as the Targaryen Empire. Daemon had followed the advising of Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan Selmy to command his army in small legions to sack and conquer the cities allowing for the entirety of Essos to be conquered in a short period of time. The last to be conquered was the Free Cities that were composed of Norvos, Qohor, Lorath, Tyrosh, Lys Braavos, Myr, Pentos and _Volantis._

Despite the brute force and tactical intelligence Daemon held, he had decided not to wage war with the Free cities created the industrialised Essos and were the foundation for the continent's economy. Daario Naharis had returned from the Free cities after relaying Daemons intentions as an envoy, _"I don't understand why you don't just let the Second Sun's and I take the city for you."_ Daemon smiled at his friend and took a sip from the ale filled chalice in his hand.

 _"You are no longer a prince with nothing but your name. You are a conqueror,"_ Daarior snickered as he glanced at the handmaidens who passed to fill the king's cup.

 _"I am to take advice from a man with nothing but improper thoughts?"_ Daemon chuckled before placing himself on the velvet embellished chair.

 _"Intentions. Not thoughts your grace. And I'm not just any man, I am your closest friend."_

 _"And what would you have me do?"_

 _"The Free Cities are the prize of Essos. There are materials and minerals for you to bargain, men to fight for your cause and well,"_ Daario chortled as he gulped down the remainder of the ale in his chalice, _"beautiful women."_

Daemon shook his head and laughed, _"women. That seems to be your sole motivation."_

The king's attitude intrigued the sellsword who had rarely seen his friend so free. They had been too focused on the entirety of the regime to return Daemon Targaryen to the Iron Throne. Daario stood from his seat and paced towards the king, _"why don't we travel to the Free Cities?"_

 _"I have already sent a legion of Unsullied there in preparation."_

 _"I have a new strategy."_ He paused to smile at his friend before grabbing the chalice of ale in Daemons hand, _"you have to know a land to rule it. You have been conquering all these cities and yet you have not truly seen any of them. If you want the people of Essos to follow you, you have to become a part of their world - strategy."_

A sliver of a smiled preyed onto Daemons lips as he contemplated the idea of leaving to the Free Cities unguarded. Daario eyed his friend, _"you won't be unguarded of course. I mean, you have the best sellsword in the world as your friend. Even without me, you were trained by several elite warriors and carry the legendary Valyrian sword Blackfyre."_

 _"Will you not miss my sister on our journey?"_ Daemon smirked.

 _"Visenya is indeed beautiful, but she is still mad. That is one thing you and I can both agree on."_

Daemon stood from his seat and grabbed the chalice from his friend's hands, _"saddle your horses we leave at noon."_

Daario grinned from ear to ear before he glanced at his friend from head to toe, _"with all due respect your grace, I don't think it would be appropriate if you left...looking like that..."_

There were only two Targaryens alive known to the world, adorned with purple eyes, silver hair and fair skin. The name of the Targaryen King had become famed throughout Westeros and Essos after his accomplishments, stories and portraits had proliferated and spread worldwide. It would be foolish of him to enter the Free Cities he wished to conquer as the embodiment of the person who they were raising arms against.

 _"Call for Missandei when your leave."_ Daario nodded and placed the chalice on the table and headed back to his quarters to prepare.

Missandei ambled into Daemons private chambers, _"yes, your grace."_

 _"Draw me a bath and fetch some dye for_ _my hair."_

Her eyes widened at his words making her response distraught, _"your grace..."_

 _"I plan to leave for the Free Cities with Daario at noon, you will not speak of this to anyone. If Ser Jorah or Ser Barristan ask for me say that I have retired early to my quarters."_

The duty of a servant was to obey their master without question and yet Missandei had felt deep concern for Daemon, she questioned if she should announce his plans to Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan and Grey Worm. Perhaps it was because she saw more to Daemon than a master. He was her king, saviour and friend.

 _"At once, your grace,"_ before leaving to start the preparations.


	6. Dance of The Dragons

**Volantis, the Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

The Free City located on the southern coast of Essos was founded as a colony of Valyria and still held remanents the greatness of the Valyrian Freehold despite the civil war now known to all Volantenes' as the Century of Blood. Volantis is recognised throughout Essos as the Free City with the largest population and power, evident in their construction of what would be known as the Long Bridge that was drawn across the immense Rhoyne River. The structure was met with the bewildered eyes of Lyanna Baratheon who had journeyed to the famed city in search of Alistair Coyne. The Long Bridge was astonishing large and was covered in rows of buildings, taverns and brothels all tied together with the marketplace at its centre.

 _Volantis is a large city, the likelihood of you being seen here increases a hundredfold, c_ himed Varys in her ear. It seemed even without the Master of Whisperers by her side she still felt his instigated lectures. Lyanna pulled the hood of the cloak over her raven locks and made her way through the marketplace of the Long Bridge of Volantis. Men, women and children dressed in brown garbs tainted by dirt and mud wore chains on their necks and tattoos embellished on their skin. The sight reminded her much of the marketplace in the North where she would often visit with Robb and Bash. Yet the sweet memory began to sour at the sight of the tattoos that tainted their skin. The Volantene masters were indeed cruel in their organised ways, flies for dung shovelers, hammers for builders and tears for whores, lest they forget what they were - slaves.

A fair girl amongst those who bore dark bronze skin stood out despite the navy cloak that covered her figure. Lyanna wandered through the market in search of someone who spoke the common tongue or at the very least knew who Alistair Coyne was.

 _"Get him!"_ The yell of a man echoed through the marketplace as women shrieked and men slammed their hands on the buildings. Lyanna turned to see a figure of a man run towards her with men in armour at his heels. Even with the chaotic seen Lyanna did not flinch at the sight of the man who was sprinting towards her with a satchel that rattled as he ran in his hand. Perhaps it was the mischievous grin on his lips. The abrupt collision caused Lyanna to fall to the ground and the man halts his steps to look at her. His eyes flickered back to the sight of the men chasing after him and to the girl placed on the ground. Lyanna had seen the incident to be already decently crude but his hand that extended only made her bewildered.

 _"Common, take my hand!"_ He commanded as he glanced back to the guards.

Lyanna did as told reluctantly and was pulled into his arms before grinned, _"now run!"_

 _"What?"_ She exclaimed before glancing to the men who were almost ready to lunge at the pair with their shields and swords.

The natural instincts in her system took command of her body making she followed suit to the strange man as they fled the scene. They ran through the dark alleyways with the men shouting for them to halt. It seemed strange that she had somehow become involved with a man who was being followed by the authoritative figures of Volantis. Lyanna did not falt in the sprint with all the experience she held from her various games of tags with her cousins. When they reached the river bank he let go of her hand and sporadic breaths as did Lyanna as she placed her palms on her knees, staring at the ground in sighs.

 _"Who are you? What have you done to make them act as such?"_ Lyanna questioned.

He laughed, _"I am just a vigilante."_

 _"Why would Volantis need a Vigilante?"_

 _"Every corrupt city has vigilantes. Even more so now that the Dragon Lords intentions have been made."_

 _"Dragon Lord?"_ She wondered what has occurred whilst on her travels. It had always been Varys who had relaid the tales, stories and news of the world. Now that she was in foreign lands, meeting another person seemed rare and precious.

 _"He has conquered Essos. An envoy was sent to the Triachs only days ago. I assume the Free Cities will soon be engulfed into the Targaryen Empire."_ He looked to the girl who had now revealed her inquisitive grey eyes. _"You. You're not from here."_

Lyanna felt weary at his words, _"I-I I've come to find Alistair Coyne..."_

The man before her who had a gleeful smile now had a burdened expression. _"I do not know who you speak of."_

 _"You are the first person I have met who speaks the common tongue. Your accent sounds much like that one of Westeros - Kings Landing..."_ Her eyes widened as he hung her head low at her words, _"who are you, really?"_

 _"I grew up in the slums of Flea Bottom. The poorest district of Kings landing, as the son of a tavern whore. After my mother passed, royal agents discovered me and placed me under their protection and I worked as the apprentice to Tobho Mott."_

 _"-it can't be..."_ Lyanna murmured under her breath.

 _"I was ecstatic to leave the putrid Flea Bottom, even if it was all due to me being the bastard son of King Robert I Baratheon. My name is Gendry."_

 _"How...how did you get here?"_

 _"After Joffery was crowned King, he instated a new regime known as the massacre in King's Landing. Under the command of Joffery, the City watch of Kings Landing hunted down and murdered the bastard children fathered by Robert I Baratheon."_

Lyanna felt her heart grow heavy at the news of so many of her half-siblings were murdered under Jofferys reign. The news made her wondered why Varys had never spoken of it. Maybe he had known if the news were revealed to her before she left, Lyanna would have marched back to Kings Landing to murder the boy king in cold blood. _"I'm sorry, I was not made aware of Jofferys actions... I promise I will make things right."_

 _"What could a common girl do to a King."_

She paused in contemplation before looking at Gendry with empathy, _"I am Lyanna Baratheon."_

Gendry looked at her shocked before he burst into laughter, _"why would a princess be here?"_

 _"Father named me heir to the Iron Throne before he died against Cersei's wishes. She had my uncle murdered, my cousin butchered and myself exiled, to place her son on the throne. I am here in search for Alistair Coyne."_

The words that escaped from her lips caused Gendry to grow wide-eyed. _"You really are the Princess Lyanna..."_ Gendry began to wonder if he should reveal the whereabouts of the retired scholar. _"Lord Coyne is now a healer that resides across the Rhoyne, he has no intention of involving himself in politics or the wars of the privileged."_

 _"My uncle, Lord Eddard of House Stark instructed I come here. I will not fail his last wishes,"_ Lyanna asserted firmly.

Gendry sighed and began to make his way, _"Do you no longer want to meet Lord Coyne?"_

Lyanna smiled in merriment and followed by his side, _"will you tell me why they were chasing you?"_

 _"In all honesty, I was just trying to antagonize them. They were collecting debts from an orphaned brother and sister who were begging for money to bury their late mother."_

 _"That is horrid..."_ Lyanna whispered.

 _"It is indeed,"_ Gendry spoke as he opened the fence to the small estate. Lyanna followed him closely as they entered. Her eyes looked at the new and strange environment she was in. Although the estate was small, it was homely and the garden of the estate was dressed with vines and flowers upon the wooden canopy. Gendry looked around, _"stay here."_

Lyanna nodded as she continued to look around the estate garden. There seemed to be no slaves or servants despite Volantis being famed for each free man possessing five slaves of their own. She wondered what type of man he was to be so esteemed in Varys and her Uncles eyes but live in such a place. A warm feeling brushed against her back and the foul smell of alcohol filled the air. Lyanna turned to see a man holding a chalice in his hand and staggering across the garden.

 _"You. Girl. Go fetch me some more wine from the cellar,"_ he commanded before placing himself onto the stone benches of the garden.

 _"You have a chalice in your hand, sir."_ Lyanna rebutted.

 _"Who are you? Where am I?"_ He questioned in his drunkenness.

 _"I do not know, I have never been here."_

The old man laughed at her stuttered response before looking up to meet her eyes. He dropped the chalice in hand, causing the ale to taint the white pavements. _"Lyanna... How are you here? You have not aged a day..."_ He whispered in bewilderment.

Gendry returned to the scene concerned, _"my Lord."_ He rushed to the man's side and helped him to stand, "This is Lord Alistair Coyne, the man you seek."

The words he spoke sounded strange to Lyanna, she had expected much more from the man named Alistair Coyne. Lyanna turned to look at the middle-aged man who stood before her. His clothes were ragged and his face bristled with hair. It seemed impossible to her that this man was the astounded scholar and healer her Uncle and Varys spoke so greatly of. Alistair Coyne seemed more gifted in the acts of drinking than teaching or saving anyone's life. _"My name is Lyanna, I have come a long way to meet you."_

 _"How I have missed you Lyanna Stark. I have not had a friend to drink wine with since you left,"_ Alistair ushered as he grabbed Lyannas hand.

She brushed his hand away and took a step back. _"You are mistaken, Lyanna Stark was my mother. I am Lyanna Baratheon, her daughter."_

 _"Curious,"_ his gaze never left her eyes as he sat down, _"you look just like Lyanna before she left."_

 _"Left?"_ She pondered what he meant by those words.

 _"Left with your father."_

 _"My father?"_

 _"He was the finest man I had ever met. He would have been a wise, kind and good ruler,"_ Alistair sighed.

 _"My father was king."_

Alistair Coyne stood and regained the composure fit for a Lord, as he made his way to his study, _"so the stories are told."_

Lyanna was left in the garden in thought, was uncle wrong to send me here? The entirety of the situation seemed strange. _"What are you doing still standing there?"_ Alistair enquired. She quickly ran by his side as they made their way into his study. The room was filled with books and large shelves that held cabinets. _"If I had known this day would come I would surely have made better preparations. I had always assumed you would be raised as a Northerner and die in the North."_

 _"I am a Northerner."_

Alistair looked at her and sighed before shaking his head. He grabbed the ladder and placed it against the shelves before pulling out cabinets and taking out herbs. _"You are to be my steward. I will act as your guardian as your father asked of me before he left for the trident. You will no longer be Lyanna Baratheon, but the healer's steward."_

 _"And what would be my new name?"_

 _"I am sure you are well versed enough to find a new name."_

Lyanna nodded in response looking at the man who had grabbed several herbs and placed them onto a sheet of paper, wrapping it into a parcel and tying it with twine.

 _"You will start the day by cleaning the estate, then gathering the herbs I have designated for you and handing out the prescriptions I have prepared for all the designated patients," Alistair explained before throwing the parcel into Lyannas hands. "Now and deliver that to the two children Gendry spoke of."_ Lyanna looked at the parcel in her hands and then to Alistair stunned, she had never been ordered to do errands for anyone before. It felt strange to be told to do something by anyone, more so by a person she barely knew. Although he expressed a peculiar personality, Lyanna did his bidding and left the estate in a search for the boy and the girl Gendry had spoken of. Perhaps it was due to Alistair's calm and stern aura that reminded her of the late Eddard Stark, that made it easy to follow his commands.

* * *

The esteemed emperor of Essos had somehow been convinced by his tumultuous friend to go into a brothel. Daemon had decided to let his friend be when it seemed evident Daario was having the time of his life with women at his beckon. Unlike the happy-go-lucky friend, Daemon had no interest for common girls and those who would gladly spread their legs for a gold dragon.

 _"You have not touched a woman since your wife passed. Do you plan on going celibate?"_ Daario snickered as he caressed the woman on his lap.

Daemon smirked, _"I don't plan to sleep with someone just because they whispered sweet practised words into my ear."_

 _"And what do you plan my friend? After all, you are a king. You can have any woman you want,"_ Daario simpered.

 _"I don't want to bed someone I_ do _not love or will not marry,"_ he replied as ushered the women away.

 _"You can do whatever you want my friend, you are the king. Your obligations to the crown come after those to yourself and those you love."_

 _"My obligations to the crown are those of my people. I can not fall in love or marry as I please, I have no time for that."_

Daario chucked, _"you had no lands, no wealth, no armies and no dragons when this all began. Now you control Essos in the span of three years. You, my friend, are capable of anything."_

 _"I have yet to take Westeros, Daario."_

 _"Why would you want Westeros? You are a conqueror, there is more to the world than Essos and Westeros."_

 _"It is my birthright, I owe it to my ancestors to take it back."_

 _"And yet the tyrant boy king sits on the Iron Throne as we speak. Even if you take control of Westeros and slaughter the Lannisters there is still that Baratheon Princess."_

 _"She was raised in the North. There is more wolf than stag in her."_ Daemon questioned what his friend was attempting to imply as he drank the wine from his chalice, _"What would you have me do to the girl?"_

 _"I would have you kill her. Her existence alone undermines your reign."_

For the first time since Daemon had known Daario, his friend bore a serious expression. _Maybe he is right,_ Daemon thought. However cruel it may be, even Joffery was smart enough to known bastards can grow to have stronger claims than even those trueborn. The act of murdering a girl seemed tragic in his eyes. Daemon began to felt a strange feeling in his skin, it was as though another dragon was in his presence. _Balaerion?_

Daemon placed the chalice of win onto the table, _"we have been here for hours, have you had enough fun?"_

Daario glanced to his friend and then to the whore straddled his lap, _"I'll see you again, love."_ She walked away naked and flushed at the sight of the king, who had now taken off his cloak and revealed his raven locks and violet eyes. Even without the signature silver Targaryen hair, Daemon could still seem to bewilder people.

 _"I think you should keep your natural locks on our next adventure."_

 _"Why?"_ Daemon chuckled.

 _"You seem to be more captivating to my women raven-haired."_

The prince laughed as he grabbed Daarios clothes and threw it to his friend. _"Let us go,"_ he wore his cloak and placed the hood over his head before grabbing Blackfyre.

 _"Why are you in such a rush? We came here to have fun, let loose, to see the lands and its women,"_ Daario smirked as he roughly put on his clothes, following Daemon out of the brothel.

 _"I felt the presence of a dragon."_

 _"Balaerion probably followed you here, after all, you are his father and the last Dragon Lord."_

Daemon contemplated the feeling he felt, _"it didn't seem like Balaerion..."_ They continued to walk through the bustling streets of Volantis. Daario chuckled at how interested Daemon seemed at the life of common people. While distracted an orphan had attempted to steal the satchel of gold tied to Daemons belt, Daario who was used to the common practice grabbed the boy by the collar.

 _"Whats wrong?"_ Daemon turned to see Daario gripping onto the child roughly.

Daario chuckled, _"this little rat was trying to steal from you. Did you not notice?"_

 _"I did."_

 _"And yet you did nothing."_

Daemon argued, " _I have more gold than I can spend in this lifetime."_

 _"Your acts of kindness make it easier for people to prey on naivety,"_ Daario lectured as he let go of the boy.

Daemon smiled in response and turned to the stall owner, passing him several taels of silver dragons. _"I want all the sweets you have made today."_ The old man placed all the red sweets into a paper bag and handed it to Daemon.

 _"What are you doing?"_ Daario queried.

 _"Bringing some happiness to slaved orphans,"_ Daemon held his charming smile and walked towards the crowd of orphans who sat by the pier. The children seemed afraid of the man dressed in black before a kind smile appeared on his lips as he beckoned the children over and gave out the sweets in the bag. It was not long before Daemon was surrounded by children who grew fond of his generosity and the sweets in his hand. They had never known what an act of kindness was living in Volantis where humans were brought, sold and executed when they defy the laws of the masters.

Daemon felt someone bump into his causing his stance to falter as he was handing out sweets. "Sorry," she spoke before grabbing the parcel she dropped from the ground and walking off. The feeling of fire burning in his body occurred once more as he turned to see the figure of the girl who had just collided into him. _The Dragon._

 _"What are you looking at?"_ Daario questioned looking around.

 _"That girl,"_ he uttered gazing at the girl walking away.

Daario laid his eyes onto the figure and turned back to his king and friend, _"do you want me to go after her?"_

 _"No."_ Daemon passed him the bag of sweets, _"stay with the children."_

The prince had always been a calm and collected character and yet he was compelled by a person he had never known. Daario sighed and allowed his king to leave unguarded. Daemon followed the girl who was looking around before her eyes landed on a young boy and girl who sat by a body wrapped in straw and dried leaves. She came towards them and smiled at them tenderly before passing them the parcel. The children looked at her intently before tears flowed down their eyes. Daemon wondered they were crying so heartfeltly before he noticed golden dragons in their hands, _she must have offered to pay for the expenses of the burial._

As the children wept in Lyannas arms, two large men in armour appeared. _"Your mother has died, all her debts fall upon you now boy."_ The first man who had a large build came next to Lyanna and pushed her to the side grabbing the young girl who sat by her brother. _"I will be selling your sister into the_ whore _house. Have gratitude that I am sparing your life,"_ he declared. The little girl screamed in his arms and the brother shouted for his sister.

 _"Let her go!"_ Lyanna demanded.

The man looked at her, _"Who are you? This is none of your concern."_ He carried the little girl away soon followed by his comrade. Lyanna grabbed a stone and threw it at the man who carried the child. Her actions caused the man to grow furious as he threw the child to the ground and stormed towards her. The brute of a man grabbed Lyanna by the arms, lifted her into the air and slammed her onto the ground.

Daemon who stood at a distance grew distraught at the scene and planned to intervene when the man lunged at Lyanna who was on the ground. Her profound agility and reflexes proved to be a great asset as she turned to the side forcing the man to land onto the ground. Before he could grab her Lyanna grabbed the dagger from his belt and propelled the blade into the man's neck. As blood gushed out of his throat the comrade yelled in fury and ran towards Lyanna. His arm was raised in an attempt to construct a harsh blow with his fists. To his dismay Lyanna ducked the punch and took a step back before performing a roundhouse kick that prompt the mans fall. A crowd had gathered by the time the fight was over, all the people cheering for Lyanna's retaliation against the authoritative figures of Volantis. The guard held his chest as he stood and fled. Lyanna ran towards the little girl who was crying in shock, she cooed softly as she ushered the girl towards her brother.

Lyanna took the children back to a tavern and paid for their stay there. She hoped that this small act would keep them safe for the time being before she could figure how else to help out the orphaned children. Her acts of kindness seemed so foreign in a world where the survival of the fittest was the motto. Intrigued by the character before him, Daemon followed Lyanna on her journey back to the estate.

The comrade of the man she had killed appeared before her with reinforcements. Lyanna halted her steps looking at the five large men before her. Even with the training of Eddard Stark and her father's knights, Lyanna was after all still a fragile girl against five large-full grown men. She did not waver at the sight of the men, Lyanna held her ground and grasped onto the sword that was hidden behind her cloak. When the comrade lunged at her with his sword Lyanna drew her own, practising the series of events that could occur in her head as she battled him in single combat. Unlike the man who used brute force and strength in each strike, Lyanna placed her left arm behind and practised the fencing technique she was taught. When it was evident the single combat was in her favour the other four men lunged at her from behind. The largest of the bunch held her in a tight grasp from behind causing her sword to fall to the ground. The comrade laughed at the situation she was now in. He paced before her proudly and grabbed her face with his calloused hands.

The prince grew tired of watching in the shadows and grabbed a stone as she did and threw it at the comrade. The five men turned to see the figure dressed in black and his blade drawn. Two of the men charged forward in turns both dying by the hands of Daemon, their throats slit by the sharp blade of the Valyrian sword. The brute of a guard who held onto Lyanna let her go and threw her aside, drawing his blade and striking hard at Daemon. He dodged the blow and propelled his sword into the back of the man, blood dripped from his lips as the sword was withdrawn from his body. The comrade who led them yelled in anger seeing three of his men fall to the ground.

Daemon approached Lyanna and extended his arm before her, beckoning her to take cover behind him. He extended one arm with the sword in his ready to fight and the other covering the girl behind him. The eyes of the two men left began to change, their pupils widened engulfed in darkness. They had become indignant at the entirety of the situation. The guard attempted to kill Daemon with the two daggers in his hands but was instead met with Blackfyre plunged through his breasts. His death led the comrade to scream in anguish charging towards him before he abruptly halted, his sword fell to the ground and blood dripping from his pale lips. The man fell to the ground with a dagger impelled into his back. The dagger had a figure incrusted into to its wooden handle, _Daario's dagger._

 _"My Liege,"_ Daario spoke as he ran towards Daemon side. The deed was done, the men were dead and the girl was now safe. And yet he felt a piercing pain despite not gaining any injuries from the fight. When he had turned to look at the cause he saw the Lyanna masticating his arm, her teeth punctured into his skin, blood dripping from his mouth.

Daario's attention landed on the girl who was causing harm to his king, _"the girl!"_

Daemon raised his hand and silenced Daario as he stared at the girl who brought him pain that ached through his body. Her grip on his arm was instead, shivering and shaking despite her aggressive actions. Tears fell from her grey eyes as she held onto his arm. In truth she was terrified of the incident that occurred, it reminded her of the day she had fleed Kings Landing. The sound of swords clashing and men yelling filled her mind with the image of Eddard. An innocent boy, her beloved cousin whom she could not protect. Lyanna had hurt the man who saved her in attempt to silence her cries and thoughts of what would have happened if he were not there. Daemon could not bare to yell or strike her, his heart felt heavy at the sight of the girl clinging to his arm crying.

When her tears dried she released her grip and began to fall back, before she was whisked into Daemons arms. Daario knelt beside his friend and looked at the girl, "what is your name?"

Lyanna's eyes fluttered as she murmured softly, _"I have no name..."_

Daario sighed and scratched the back of his head, _"you surely do have strange tastes, my friend."_

The prince looked at the girl who had fainted in his arms intently. He wondered who she was, she could not have been a slave for she had no tattoos, she couldn't have been a lady with no servants by her side, she didn't act like a princess or a noble and yet her grand actions of kindness could only be done by a noble lady.

 _"What do you intend to do with her?"_ Daario questioned.

 _"I do not know,"_ Daemon uttered.

 _"We could always just leave her here for her family to find her."_

 _"How could she have a family when she does not even possess a name?"_

Daario sighed in distress, _"we need to return to Meereen. You don't intend to bring this girl back do you?"_


	7. Remnants of Lost Prophecies

**The Great Hall of the Red Keep, Kings landing 300AC**

The death of King Robert had allowed Cersei Lannister to proclaim her son as the rightful king to the seven kingdoms to the dismay of the nobles and commoners throughout Westeros. The boy king was a tyrant who not only took pleasure but revelled in the pain and despair of others. He thought himself safe in the grand castle walls of the Red Keep. The commoners believed Aegon built his castle of red rock to remind people of the fire he roasted his enemies in, so whenever King's Landing looked up they'd see the price of defiance.

Joffery had decided to portray himself as the rightful king with a powerful reign in his grasp by fortifying King's Landing. The Crownlands had been the sole responsibility of the reigning monarch since Aegon's conquest. Whilst Joffery found solace in violence and war, Lord Tywin Lannister who was now appointed as hand to the king attempted to soothe the roaring rumours that rustled throughout the castle walls and streets of Kings Landing by throwing an extravagant feast - inviting all the noble families who had sworn fealty to the reign of house Baratheon. Perhaps it was because all the great noble houses knew the true royal family were the Lannisters that they decided to appear. After all, the Lannisters were the wealthiest house second only to house Tyrell who had slowly but surely began to flourish in their riches.

The war of the five Kings had recently come to a simmering halt with the deaths of Stannis and Renly Baratheon. Which left the beautiful Margery Tyrell widowed and her brother who had peculiar tastes heartbroken. It evident that the future of house Tyrell held great resentment towards the crown as they sat in the banquet with deceitful smiles. Margery had become fond of the wolf under house arrest during her stay in the Red Keep. Her brown locks, enchanting blue eyes and womanly body made any man who laid eyes on her to feel flustered. It was to nobody's surprise that Sebastian Stark and Margery Tyrell would grow to become close friends to the dismay of the Princess.

Although he had known that the deaths of his beloved father and brother were not the cause of Myrcella's actions, it would be inevitable that he distanced himself from the princess. Days turned to weeks and yet no news of the Lyanna Baratheon had returned to Kings Landing. Instead, the loss of the princess allowed for the commoners and nobles to question her death, allowing for rumours of the new king's cruelty to become frequent gossip.

Sebastian struggled to sustain a smile throughout the banquet despite its vibrancy and allure. The banquet had seen noble houses and Great Houses attend, the Lannisters, Tyrells, Martells, and a single Stark. Olenna Tyrell greeted Bash with a smile, _"you look well child. I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. The Game of Thrones is treacherous but killing a child who had barely known the world was horrid."_ The queen of thorns caressed Bash's cheek, _"what sort of monster would do such a thing?"_

The boy king stood with a velvet purse in his hand that rattled with gold and silver. He smiled maliciously as he looked to the jest he had prepared and the _little men_ who stood before him in the costumes of fallen kings. _"Well fought, well fought," he applauded in smiles as the crowd of guest present cheered._

 _"Here you are. Champion's purse."_ Joffery smirked as he played with the velvet purse in his hand, _"though you're not the champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all the challengers. Surely there are others out there who still dare to challenge my reign."_

Joffery had thought himself powerful and smart for formulating a play that mocked both his uncle and the Stark wolf. _"Uncle,"_ he beckoned as he looked towards Tyrion Lannister who had hoped to take no part in Joffery's scheme for amusement. _"How about you? I'm sure they have a spare costume."_

Tyrion simpered in reply, _"One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace. I would like to keep what remains of my face. I think you should fight him. This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness. Climb down from the high table with your sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne."_ Joffery's eyes grew dark as his uncle turned to him with a smile of mockery, _"be careful, though. This one is clearly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the king to lose his virtue before he has gotten the chance to claim a Queen."_

The boy king laughed and laughed before his snickers died and his expression became engulfed in madness. The crowd became silenced when Joffery paced over towards Tyrion with a goblet of wine in his hand. Their smiles died as he emptied the wine onto his uncles crown. Tyrion brought his fingers towards his face, touching the wine that trickled down to his cheek and brought his finger to his lips, _"fine vintage. Shame that it spilt."_

 _"It did not spill,"_ Joffery argued.

Sebastian's fist tightened at the malicious actions Joffery had played. A boy king with a tyrants temper. It caused Myrcella glanced at his hand worried for what he might to in rage. _"Brother,"_ Myrcella stood from her seat and raised the chalice of wine in her hand, _"a toast to the new king and to thank the Gods for bringing the recent war to a just end!"_

The crowd raised their goblets as they cheered, _"long live King Joffrey!"_

* * *

 **Volantis the First Daughter, Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

The image portrayed in her haze of a view seemed dim and dark. Volantis had always been loud and vibrant but the scene had now changed to a solemn room. Light footsteps echoed in her ear as Lyanna slowly turned to see the sight. The two children she had saved stood before her, gawking at the raven-haired lady. _The Tavern,_ she thought as she steadied herself to lean against the pillows. The small hand of the child extended to grab Lyanna's quivering hand, she placed a crinkled note and a silver pin of a winter rose engulfed by a three-headed dragon. The children did not speak, only staring at the girl with beckoning eyes to read the note. Her slender fingers brushed over the silver pin, moving it aside to open the note.

 _The name Nymeria would suit you, my lady._

Lyanna thought of the events that occurred before she awoke in the tavern. That man. Blurred images of a man in black and the taste of blood on her lips filled her mind. _"Who gave you this..?_ " she murmured to the two children before her. The little boy stepped forward and grabbed the silver pin on the cotton blanket and placed it in her hand. It was the first time she had ever seen such an exquisitely detailed pin. _"I have to go back...Alistair and Gendry are probably looking for me."_ She picked herself up and grabbed her sword and cloak that rested on the chair by the door. Lyanna turned to the two children and smiled, _"stay here, you will be safe. I will come by to bring you food and water soon."_ The brother and sister seemed to understand her intentions despite not being able to comprehend her words.

As she came closer to the estate, Lyanna saw Gendry and Alistair pacing back and forth in the garden. "There you are," exclaimed Gendry as he pulled her in for a hug causing her to wince in pain. _"What is wrong?"_ he whispered as he trod back looking up and down her body, _"are you hurt?"_

 _"You daft girl. Do you not know your status? The name you bare and the blood that runs through your veins?"_ Alistair wailed he poured a glass of ale. _"What was he thinking, leaving you with only two knights! He should have never left for the trident leaving me to pick up the pieces nineteen years later!"_

Lyanna brushed off Gendrys grasp as she stepped towards the drunken man, _"what are you trying to imply?"_

Alistair sighed as he chugged the rest of the ale, _"we will speak of this another time."_

 _"No. You will explain this to me now. It has been less than two days since I have been here and nothing you have said has made sense!"_

His large hands grasped the glass cup tightly before cracking it beneath his palms. Blood streamed down his hand as he snickered, _"I don't take commands from a child,"_ Alistair stood from his seat and marched back into the halls of the estate leaving Lyanna frustrated at his words.

 _"C'mon then, we have work to do,"_ smiled Gendry, placing a hand on her shoulder ushering her away. Lyanna followed him reluctantly as they made their way into the glass house filled with herbs, flowers and plants, a sigh escaped from her lips.

Gendry spoke as he picked the leaves from the herbs in the rusted pots, _"what is wrong?"_

Lyanna hung her head low as she played with the pin in her hand, _"I do not know."_ A dragon and a wolf were never meant to be together. The day Rhaegar Targaryen had laid the crown of blue winter roses in her mother's lap may have been the beginning of the end of a great dynasty. It seemed too ironic that the daughter of a wolf would be given such a sentimental gift by a mere stranger. Her heart felt heavy the more she looked at the intricate pin, _who could have given me this?_ The pin was not made of common silver, but Valyrian Steel. Even with the rust it bore, it still shimmered in the light.

 _"Little lady, what is it that you're holding?"_ Gendry chuckled before snatching the pin from her hand.

 _"Hey!"_ Lyanna exclaimed.

Gendry grew wide-eyed at the gem in his hand, _"where did you get this?"_

 _"A series of unnerving events occurred yesterday. I somehow came into possession of that pin,"_ she grabbed the note from her pocket and added, _"and this."_

His eyes wavered from the pin to the note in her hand. Lyanna passed him the note solemn expression and turned to gather the herbs. Gendry murmured, _"the name Nymeria would suit you, my lady."_

The words that escaped his mouth seemed strange to Lyanna causing her to sigh in annoyance. The irritated expression on Lyanna's face caused Gendry to chuckle as he came by her side. _"I am your brother, you must not hide anything from me."_

 _"...I know,"_ she whispered.

 _"Nymeria. The name does suit you."_

 _"And why do you say that?"_

 _"Nymeria was not only a warrior but a queen whos action's saved her people, founded the house Martell and the prosperity Dorne holds today. Dorne was Nymeria and Nymeria was Dorne. A queen of the people."_ He smiled at Lyanna, _"isn't that what you hope to become someday?"_

 _"Perhaps."_

* * *

 **Meereen, Bay of Dragons, Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

With Daario Naharis by his side, it was evident who the figure dressed in black was. The unsullied who guarded the gates abruptly opened the large doors and greeted their king. Daemons hand dripped in blood as he strode on his silver stallion through the streets of Meereen. The common folk began to gather and kneeled at the sight of the saviour whilst the unsullied gathered by his side with shields raised protectively. The unsullied were on high alert under the orders of Ser Barristan Selmy after the outbreak of the Sons of the Harpy during the disappearance of the King.

 _"Your grace,"_ Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah spoke in unison when Daemon appeared in their field of vision.

Daemon faltered as he dismounted his horse alarming Visenya who rushed by his side. _"Brother,"_ she uttered looking at his hand. The glare propelled Daarios way was almost instantaneous, _"I will skin you alive if anything happens to my brother."_

The prince smirked at her words before placing a kiss on her crown, _"I am a fine sweet sister."_ Daemon calmly sauntered into the halls of the great Pyramid waving his hand to his men to disperse as he beckoned his friend by his side, _"Missandei."_

 _"Yes, your grace."_ She spoke calmly rushing by his side. Missandei nodded looked to the maidens in waiting who rushed away to prepare their lieges bath. The water was murky with ailments for his wounds with rose petals scattered on the surface. The maidens were quick to disrobe Daemon who stood with his eyes clothes and a rising temper. He slowly stepped into the steaming bath as Missandei ushered the maids away. When the room was silence Missandei trod closer towards him with her lips parted. _"I beg your pardon your grace, but if I may ask what happened to your arm,"_ she asked as she tended to his wounds.

His expression softened as he sighed, _"I was attacked."_

Missandei gasped in shock, _"by what?"_

Daemon leant against the marble in the thought of the strange girl, who was vicious despite her kind and delicate nature. He had thought her a dragon, and yet she seemed more like... _"a wolf."_

" _There are no wolves in Essos,"_ she wondered.

The prince chuckled, _"I suppose there are now."_ His smile slowly disappeared to the footsteps that entered his chambers, _"my king, Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah and the Princess Visenya request your presence..."_

His eyes fluttered open, _"what else are you withholding, Grey Worm."_

 _"Daario Naharis was detained under the orders of Princess Visenya, your grace."_

Missandei grabbed his robes as Daemon stepped out from the bath - angered. She followed by his side along with Grey Worm along with the Kingsguard to the court of the Great Pyramid. Daemon placed himself on the throne, looking towards his knights, advisors and his sister, _"Daario Naharis has committed no crime, he will be freed at once."_

 _"He jeopardized your safety by taking you to Volantis unguarded,"_ Visenya argued.

"I left of my own free will," Daemon asserted.

Ser Jorah looked to his king, _"your grace, if I may, the princess if right. He is, after all, a sellsword, there may have been ulterior motives."_

 _"I have been absent for_ mere _days and your loyalties seemed to have faulted, Jorah."_

 _"Your grace-"_ Jorah looked perplexed when the young king intervened.

Daemon chuckled before his violet eyes turned dark, _"why did the usurper pardon you?"_

 _"If we could speak alone,"_ Jorah insisted with an agony of mind.

 _"No. Speak to me here. Explain it to me. Why were you pardoned?"_ Daemon looked to the man who he had loved as a father, _"unless I am wrong to presume you are a pawn of the usurper. Unless you say this document is forged."_

 _"It is not forged,"_ Jorah murmured.

Barristan Selmy had sent word of Jorah Mormonts betrayal days before Daemon had arrived in Meereen. The prince had not believed the actions of the knight who served as a protector and father figure to him for so many years as the cause of so many treacherous events. Now that he had seen he wavering flicker of fear and guilt in Jorahs eyes, Daemon was certain of his betrayal. And yet he could not bear to see the man dead. _"Why then?"_

 _"I send letters to Varys. The spymaster of Kings Landing."_

 _"What was the content of these letters."_

 _"Information."_

 _"What information?"_

Jorah wavered as he professed, _"when you and Visenya arrived in Pentos. The plan to have you wed the Dothraki Khaleesi. When you were married."_

 _"You told them she carried my child."_

 _"I-"_

The dragon had been awakened. Daemon attempted to suppress his anger and pain when looking at the man. To his dismay, it was evident to those present that their king would execute anyone who would dare intervene. "Yes _or no."_

 _"Khal..."_

 _"Don't call me that,"_ he commanded as he rose from his seat. " _D_ _id you tell them she was carrying my child. **My son.** "_

 _"Yes."_

Daemon began to walk towards Jorah, his eyes changed to a dark indigo, "That _wine merchant attempted to poison my wife because of your information."_

Jorah quivered under Daemons glare, " _I_ _stopped her from drinking that wine-"_

 _"Because you knew it was poisoned."_

 _"I suspected."_

 _"You betrayed me. From the first-"_

 _"Forgive me,"_ he begged as his knees touched the stone pavement. _"I never meant- please Khal, forgive me."_

Daemon chuckled at his words in an attempt to control the exasperation surging through his body, _"you sold my secrets to the man who killed my father and usurped my throne. And yet you want me to forgive you?"_

 _"I have loved you like my flesh and blood,"_ Jorah plead with endearment and guilt, _"I have raised and protected you like a son."_

 _"Love? How could you say that to me? If you were any other man I would have you executed. But you, I do not want in my city. Dead or alive. Go back to your masters in Kings Landing, collect your pardon...if you can."_

 _"Daemon please-"_ Jorah raised his hands to touch Daemon which was reciprocated with the king's hand being raised and the Kings Guard stepping forward.

 _"Don't ever presume to touch me again or speak my name. You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you are found in Meereen past break of day, I'll have you fed to my dragons,"_ he warned. Everyone present seemed at awe to the reveal of Ser Jorah Mormonts betrayal to the king he had been much like a father to. The unsullied guarding the great court escorted Ser Jorah Mormont as Grey Worm followed closely behind.

 _"Grey Worm."_

 _"Yes my king,"_ Grey Worm saluted.

 _"Bring Daario to me, when you are done."_

The unsullied commander nodded in reply before escorting Ser Jorah out of the great court. The room filled with silence as the large embellished doors closed. Daemon turned to glance at his advisors, _"is there anything else you wish to inform me of?"_ The advisors present looked to Daemon with fearful expressions. His exterior had expressed the presence of the dragon that had been suppressed all these years. Daemon was not only angered but it felt as though salt had just been smothered onto his wounds. Although there were an array of issues to be discussed the meeting was postponed as a result of Ser Jorah's betrayal being revealed.

The king returned to his private courters, followed closely by Ser Barristan Selmy and Missandei who were deeply concerned for his wellbeing. As the large door closed Ser Barristan ushered Missandei away to allow Daemon some privacy. Soft echoes of a laugh escaped from his lips as Missandei exited the quarters. Ser Barristan looked over at the king who always held himself with grace and conveyed an illustrious demeanour, had now seemed crippled by the pain he bore. Daemon laughed when his legs gave in, propelling him onto the ground.

 _"Your grace,"_ Ser Barristan exclaimed rushing by his side.

Daemon chuckled seeming perturbed by the environment he was in. The game of thrones had always been a treacherous venture driven by vengeance and avarice. Despite the qualifications Daemons held to become a capable and kind king, his accomplishments would always be overwritten by the despicable actions that occurred around him. The man who had been with him before he little more than a boy, who had played a part in raising him and protecting him had all the while been the cause of the death of those he loved and cared for. He had not known the tenebrosity that brewed within the hearts of men, and now he had known the priced he paid for playing the role of a native ruler. Perhaps Daario was right, after all, his acts of kindness did allow for people to prey on his naivety.

As his chuckles died out, a single tear dropped from Daemons cheek. The violet in his eyes once again returned to a dark indigo, _"he was like a father to me. Just as you are. You would remember well the consequences of those who betray me."_

Ser Barristan insisted calmly, _"of course, your grace."_

The chamber doors opened leisurely to reveal Grey Worm with Daario by his side. _"I will personally guard your quarters tonight,"_ Ser Barristan spoke with a soft smile. The aged knight turned to look at Daario who seemed bruised and battered before leaving with Grey Worm.

Daario paced over to the glass pitcher that contained the contents of prized Dornish wine. Daemon sighed as he closed his eyes, leaning back against the foot of the bed. The tap of the glass chalice echoed in his ear as Daario sat down by his side.

 _"What did you expect?"_

Daemon sighed once more at his friend's judgmental query - lost of words to how to respond. He had not known what reply he had expected from Jorah. He had only hoped that the man he had known as a father would prove to him that the document was forged, that Ser Barristan was wrong to believe him to be a spy. _"I had hoped he would tell me that it was all a lie."_

 _"And would you have believed him?"_ Daario looked to his friend who was in contemplation of what his actions might have been. _"Would you have been able to turn a blind eye knowing the man you knew as father had betrayed you from the very start?"_

Daemon opened his eyes to the words that echoed from Daarios lips. He placed his hand on the chalice of wine his friend held and chugged it down as if to simmer his temper. Daario nudged his friend and chuckled, _"why don't we go do something fun?"_ His attempts to lift Daemon's mood only caused the king to move away from his friend. Daemon walked towards the balcony looking over Meereen.

 _"There must be something you have in mind,"_ Daario insisted proceeding by his side.

 _"I would like to have your tongue lacerated. Maybe then, you would learn to speak less."_

Daario grew wide-eyed before snickering, _"don't make jokes with such a serious tone."_

Daemon gazed out at the vast horizon, _"I wasn't joking."_

 _"Come on, there must be something to lighten up your mood."_ Daario contemplated what events would revive the violet tones in his friend's eyes, _"what about that girl?"_

 _"What girl?"_

 _"I heard her name is Nymeria."_

Daemon chuckled at his words, glancing at his friend before walking back into his chambers. He headed towards the glass pitcher, pouring a glass of wine.

 _"She seems to be a pupil of the great healer of Volantis. Although she doesn't seem to have much talent in the-"_

 _"What_ of _the healer?"_

 _"My men have found that the healer is likely to be the former prestigious Master Alistair Coyne, he was a friend to your brother in his youth."_

 _"How did he come to reside in Volantis?"_

 _"After your brother died at the Trident, he had beat a hasty retreat to Essos. For at the time, Robert had claimed himself king and hoped to eradicate every living Targaryen. Being a close friend and ally to your family would have held a bounty on his life."_ Daario looked to his friend who sat on the velvet embellished chair with a calm expression, _"are you not going to ask me about the girl?"_

 _"I presume your mouth will run whether I ask or not."_

Daario laughed, _"well I have only taken liberties as you have seemed to taken an interest in the girl."_

Daemon looked perplexed as his words. He questioned if he had been obvious of his intentions. The strange girl had indeed intrigued him but she had not caused him to forsake his duties.

 _"I have placed several Second Sun members to watch over her, do not fret my friend. I only question why you care about a common girl."_

The prince looked to the chalice of wine in his hand, his thoughts flooded with images of the girl. _"It feels as though I have lost something very important. That I have been searching for it all this time,"_ Daemon smiled, _"and I have finally found it."_


	8. Sons of the Harpy

**Meereen, Bay of Dragons, Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

In the years he had spent in the foreign plains of Essos, this was the first night to seem so cold and dark he feared it would engulf his soul. Even in his dreams, Daemon could still see the many memories he had built with Ser Jorah. All the trust and love they had shared as father and son had become soured in his betrayal, prompting him to awake from his slumber frustrated and angered. He wondered why he could not terminate the feelings he brew towards the old knight as he gazed at the ceiling. Perhaps it was because he loved him so much so, he could only hate him out of the pain in his heart. The sun had yet to rise when Daemon arose from his bed. He had decided to not call for Missandei or his handmaidens to assist him, it would only cause his men to be more worried about their king's strange behaviour since his return, more so than they had already been displaying.

After the incident, Ser Barristan had insisted to enstate more guards around Daemon's quarters with the Kings Guard standing by the door, along with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard himself. He no longer had the free will to escape without being reprimanded or stopped by Ser Barristan. Thus the prince decided to take drastic measures and stood by the balcony, overseeing Meereen. He closed his eyes, consuming deep breaths of fresh morning air as he repeated in his mind, _Balaerion._ The three dragons born through fire and blood had now reached adolescence, grown to be the size of a killer whale a cause of being allowed to roam free. Although Balaerion had not been seen for weeks, Daemon had great faith that his child would return to his aid.

Balaerion's breathing echoed in the air as he perched on the side of the pyramid. The black dread clawed closer towards Daemon who emitted fumes of blood. The last Dragon Lord looked to his dragon who had changed so much. His horns had grown and his scales had a darker pigment than before. To everyone else, Balaerion would seem much like a beast who had grown, and yet to Daemon, he was a dragon, a son and a beautiful creature that held so much more than the savages told in stories. _"Balaerion,"_ he whispered as he stepped forward to the dragon. Daemon extended his hand out to stroke the Balaerion who seemed unsettled. Balaerion welcomed his touch and nudged onto his arm which brought a smile to Daemons lips. The prince wondered how he would mount Balaerion who perched so high on the pyramid.

Daemon turned to look at the horizon, walking towards the balcony, he began to climb onto the edge and turned to look at Balaerion with a smile, _"I trust you, my beautiful child."_ He leant back and plummeted towards the ground. The Great Pyramids were large enough to allow the immense drop to consume Daemon in the cold winds. As he felt himself fall faster towards the ground, Balaerion descended and caught him mid-air. Daemon quickly settled himself upon Balaerions back and grabbed onto his horns. Even being apart for so long, Balaerion still held the closest bond with his master and Daemon proved he truly was the last Dragon Lord. The black dread soared past Meereen, East, towards Westeros where he had been travelling for the months he was gone, petrifying the Westerosi civilians, proving Daemons existence and power once more.

Essos had always been an image of chess pieces on a board waiting to be stricken in his eyes. It may have been the politician in him that allowed for such a perspective. In spite of his imminent conquest, Daemon had always valued the lives and interest of the common people. After all, it was the commoners who ensured the wheel continued to move. Upon the return of Daemon and Daario to Meereen, the Free Cities had already sworn fealty to the Dragon Lord, making him the sole ruler of Essos. His reign was evident as flags of a three-headed red dragon on a black field invaded the city of Volantis. Without any command, Balaerion had taken the initiative and landed by a small farm. Perhaps he had known the who Daemon had been thinking of, or maybe the Dragon felt famished at the sight of the lambs in the field. Daemons attempt to persuade Balaerion to return him to Meereen only resulted in the dragon turning away in seek of another lamb to feast on.

Upon Daemon and Daario's return to Meereen, the Free Cities had already sworn fealty to the Dragon Lord, making him the sole ruler of Essos. The reign of the Targaryen Empire was evident as flags of a three-headed red dragon on a black field invaded the city of Volantis. Without any command, Balaerion had taken the initiative and landed by a small farm. Perhaps he had known who Daemon had been thinking of, or maybe the Dragon felt famished at the sight of the lambs in the field. Daemon's attempt to persuade Balaerion to return him to Meereen only resulted in the dragon turning away in hunger for another lamb to feast on.

Although he had become irate at Balaerion's actions he knew better than to anger a hungry dragon. Daemon had instead decided to venture into the streets of Volantis in search of the strange girl who had taken the name Nymeria. Although the city had recently come under the Targaryen empire, there would still be many within the city who despise the foreign king.

* * *

 **Volantis the First Daughter, Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

Life in Volantis was not as terrible as she had initially thought. The city held great promise for a new life. A life Lyanna had expected to be mundane and without the treacherous nature of the Lannisters, and the contempt of those vying for the Iron Throne. Lyanna spent her days in Volantis, gathering herbs and plants appropriate for the prescriptions written for patients by the old healer. In all honesty, Alistair Coyne was not as aged as he seemed. Perhaps it was all the wine and ale he consumed that led to the grey strands in his hair, the fine lines near his eyes and mouth, and his substandard vision.

The small estate of Alistair Coyne was home to only three residence, all of which lacked cooking skills. It was fortunate that the old healer would receive baskets of fish, bread and fruits from the common people who lived in the area. Volantis had seen themselves grateful for the assistance of the healer, after the purge of plague. Before the sun had risen, Lyanna had dressed and made her way to the kitchen in an attempt to take some food back to the children at the tavern. She placed some bread, dried meat and berries into her basket along with a bota-bag filled with water.

 _"Why are you stealing my food?"_

Lyanna turned at the censorious words in shock, dropping the bota bag in her hand.

Alistair trodded towards her, _"where were you planning on going with all of this?"_

 _"You know where I'm going..."_ she sighed.

 _"You can't look after them for the rest of your life"._

 _"Yes, I can,"_ Lyanna insisted as she picked up the bag of water.

The old healer looked to the Lyanna who reminded him so much of her late mother, whose actions were always driven by kindness and justice. He extended his arm and placed his hand onto to the basket, snatching it from her grasp, _"they will survive fine without you, but my patients will frail if you do not fetch what have prescribed"._

 _"But-"_

Alistair ushered her away, _"off you go now."_

Lyanna left to the fields to gather herbs upon Alistair's insistence. She gathered her satchel and list of herbs and plants to gather. She made her way to the fields in search of those native to Volantis - Thymus Vulgaris and Juniper Berries. Although Volantis held a warmer climate and the plains were often dry, the fields on the outskirts of the city walls near the farms and riverbank allowed green grass to grow. Thymus Vulgaris could be found under the trees near the riverbank that sits past the mountain of rocks and boulders. Lyanna ties the satchel across her body tighter as she climbs on the bed of rocks.

It seemed the old gods were no kinder than what old nan used to tell of. For every time she came to these fields, she could not help but remember her time at Winterfell. Of course, there was much different between Volantis and the cold North but even the small errands of getting herbs for Alistair reminded her of her cousins - Bran who loved to climb, little Edd who was always adventurous, Bash who knew nothing but smiles and Robb who would watch brooding and stoic just as her uncle. Rickon who was still a babe when she left, made her wonder how he changed, how he might have grown. Would the youngest of the Stark sons be quiet and humorous like Bash and Bran or brooding and adventurous like Edd and Robb... Lyanna was thousands of miles away from the people she had known as family, it caused every detail of life in Volantis to remind her of the Northern winds and the white snow.

Although she missed her home, she knew perfectly well that Volantis would be her home now. And living in Alistair Coyne's estate entails being what felt like a personal slave to Lyanna. She carefully descended the pile of rocks and made her way towards the bed of Thymus Vulgaris that grew beneath the old willow tree. The aroma of the Thymus Vulgaris filled the air as Lyanna began picking the herb and placing into the satchel. Lyanna gathered enough to make enough prescriptions for elixirs, teas and dried to be used in cooking. When the satchel had held enough, Lyanna left in search for Juniper Berries.

As she made her way down the river bank, large markings appeared. _"What is this...?"_ Lyanna murmured as she knelt down and touched the soil tainted by blood. The size of the footprints was so large it dwarfed Lyanna's small hand and slender fingers as she examined the blood. A powerful gust of wind was propelled towards Lyanna, accompanied by the sound of branches breaking and the ground to rumble.

Lyanna abruptly turned to see the sight, her grey eyes landed on the mythical beast that stalked towards her. His black wings extended, creating a shadow that emphasised the size and power of the dragon. She gasped under her breath looking at the black dread as he appeared inches before her.

The snarl that escaped the sharp layers of fangs he bared caused shivers to spiral down her spine. Her heart began to pound faster than a stallion sprinting across the Dothraki sea and small beads of sweat rolled down her skin.

 _"Balaerion."_

The back dread snarled at her before retreating back and releasing the dragons roar as if to ensure its power and stature remained esteemed in her eyes. Lyanna breathed heavily, as if in gratitude to the old gods for surviving being preyed on by a dragon.

A figure in black appeared before her, walking towards the dragon as if he possessed no fear. Lyanna assumed that the figure was the owner of the voice that calmed the dragon moments ago. A man. Lyanna observed his tall stature, broad shoulders and the intricate sword he held. _This is no ordinary man._

Lyanna stood from the ground and questioned the man before her as if she had not already suspected the answer, " _who are you?"_

Daemon stayed silent and stroked Balaerions scales to calm the dragon who was portraying predatory eyes towards Lyanna. Balaerion had sensed the dragon blood in Lyanna's veins, and yet the dragon still questioned her loyalties. Loyalties that did not fall with the blood of house Targaryen. After all, she was a Southern princess raised in the North who was more of a wolf than a dragon.

 _"The Dragon Lord has already claimed the city. Enough innocent people have died for the foreign king's conquest."_ Lyanna exclaimed frustrated.

 _"And you suspect me of being a threat?"_ Daemon retorted looking at Balaerion.

 _"I suspect your Lord and his dragons to be a threat."_

Daemon chuckled at her words, _"my lord?"_ The young king finally released his grasp on Balaerion and turned towards Lyanna revealing his piercing violet eyes.

The wolf princess became silenced at the sight of the bewitching gaze in his violet eyes. Daemon walked towards her, engulfing Lyanna in his presence. He stood mere inches away from her, replicating the scene between her and Balaerion only moments ago. Her breaths fluctuated in her nervousness as he leaned closer towards her.

 _"Your eyes..."_ she whispered her thoughts allowed.

 _"What of them?"_

 _"There is only one bloodline...that posses them in Essos..."_ Her heart began to race in fear of being discovered as a legitimate Baratheon, a thorn in the Dragon Lord's conquest to the Iron Throne.

 _"Indeed,"_ he replied.

Lyanna's eyes fell towards his feet at his calm response. _It's him. It's really him._ The wolf princess who had never turned from any man in fear had felt terrified of the man before her and the power he held. Lyanna came to the conclusion that she would have rathered died by the sharp fangs of Balaerion than the sword of the Dragon Lord before her.

Daemon smiled seeing the girl before him who at first accounter wild and wolfish, now nervous and terrified. He glanced at the silver pin of the three-headed dragon and winter rose he had gifted her on her coat. It seemed peculiar that she wore the pin and yet was in fear of the person who had left it in her possession. As Daemon reached out to touch the pin, Lyanna reacted in immediate shock and self-defence, grabbing his arm and throwing him to the ground. With a sudden lunge, Lyanna hovered above Daemon with a dagger to his throat.

The prince had been taken by surprise to the unforeseen collision, causing the hood of his cloak to fall revealing his raven locks. Blood trickled down Lyanna's dagger as she looked at the man below her. Her eyes swayed towards his raven locks and back to his violet eyes before a sigh escaped her lips and she began to breathe heavily.

Balaerion snarled in the background seeing Lyanna straddle his Master with a dagger to Daemon's throat.

 _"It's alright, boy."_ Daemon murmured.

Lyanna's heartfelt lightened at the reveal of his raven locks, allowing her to release her grasp on the dagger to his throat, shifting off to lay beside him on the field. A soft chuckle escaped her lips before laughter bellowed in the air. Daemon turned to look at the strange girl who held a knife to his throat and yet was now laying beside him laughing.

 _"I can't believe I thought you were the Targaryen King,"_ she whispered giggling.

Daemon rested on his elbow looking at her, _"and you've met him before?"_

 _"No, but those with pure Targaryen blood not only have purple eyes but silver hair."_

 _So you really don't recognise me, after all,_ he wondered with a smile, _"how particular you are."_

 _"I heard Dayne's of Starfall have purple eyes...are you perhaps a Dayne?"_ Lyanna heartened turning to her side to look at him, _"or are you...a Targaryen bastard?"_ Her heartened expression and strange questions brought a smile to Daemons lips before he leant back onto the bed of grass, _"you talk more than I expected."_

 _"And what did you expect of me?"_

 _"A wolf-blooded lady,"_ Daemon dismissed.

 _"I'm no lady"._

 _"If you insist,_ _my lady"._ The prince gave her a soft chuckle before gathering himself and heading towards Balaerion who had been watching eagerly to return to Meereen. As he was walking away, Lyanna grabbed him by the arm, _"you still haven't told me your name"._ A rasped breath escaped his lips when Lyanna held onto the wound roughly, pulling him back.

 _"Are you injured?"_ Lyanna quickly pulled back the cloak and sleeve that covered his arm to reveal the bandages.

 _"I am fine,"_ Daemon insisted in attempt to pull his arm away.

 _"I am the pupil of the great healer, I can help ease the pain and scaring."_

Daemon looked at her amused, _you caused this wound and now you wish to care for it._

Lyanna slowly pulled away the bandages to reveal a crescent-shaped wound, engraved with small punctures throughout. The sight of the markings bought the strange taste of iron and blood in her mouth. She glanced back up to see his piercing violet eyes looking towards her. Slowly images of a figure in black and the sounds of swords clashing flooded her memory. When she resumed her focus on Daemon once more, the image of the figure had become clearer. _Their one in the same._

 _"You...you saved me..."_ Lyanna murmured gazing at him.

Daemon stroked her nose with the back of his index finger and smiled, _"stay out of trouble"._ She flushed at the action and loosened her grip on his arm, allowing for Daemon to continue towards Balaerion. When he was beside the Dragon, Daemon turned to glance at her once more before mounting the large beast. The black dread began to extend his wings and sauntered to take flight. The sheer might and power of Balaerion's wings being waved caused the trees and ground to rumble.

Lyanna watched as Balaerion began to take flight and soared into the air. She did not know what to do but declare the gratitude she had towards the stranger. "Thank you for giving me the name Nymeria," she yelled beamingly.

Although he could not reply or turn back to look at her one last time, the words that rung in his ears were enough to bring an elated smile to his lips.

* * *

 **Meereen, Bay of Dragons, Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

Daemon spoke overseeing the city from the balcony, _"everyone looks happy enough from up here."_

Ser Barristan laughed in thought, standing by his side gazing out towards the horizon.

 _"What?"_ Daemon asked, surprised by his laughter.

 _"I was thinking of all the times your brother made me go with him down from the Red Keep, into the streets of King's Landing,"_ the old knight smiled.

 _"Why?"_

 _"He liked to walk among the people, he liked to sing to them."_

 _"He sang to them?"_ Daemon chuckled thinking about what his brother might have been like compared to how he is portrayed in stories the commoners and nobles speak of.

 _"Yes,"_ Ser Barristan explained gleefully, _"Rhaegar would take a spot on the Hook or the Street of Seeds and then he'd sing. Just like al the other minstrels."_

 _"And what did you do?"_ Daemon questioned with a smile.

 _"I made sure no one killed him. And I collected the money. Well, he liked to see how much he could make."_

Daemon grinned as they walked back into his chambers, _"he was good?"_

 _"He was very good,"_ Ser Barristan laughed. _"Visenya never told you?"_

 _"She told me Rhaegar was good at killing people."_

 _"Rhaegar never liked killing. He loved singing."_

It seemed his brother was much different than what Visenya had portrayed him as. He was much more interested in the happiness and welfare of the common people than participating in politics and war. Perhaps the reason why Ser Barristan Selmy cared for Daemon so much was not because he had pledged his loyalty to the Targaryen king but the similarities he shared with his late brother, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, _"and what did you do with the money?"_

 _"Well, one time, he gave it to the next minstrel down the street. One time he gave it to an orphanage in Flea Bottom. One time... we go horribly drunk,"_ Ser Barristan chuckled and Daemon ached in laughter.

A knock on the door revealed Daario Naharis who greeted the king and Ser Barristan Selmy respectfully, _"your Grace, Hizdar is here, waiting in your audience chamber."_

Daemon sighed, _"how many others are there?"_

 _"Fifty a hundred."_

 _"Will you be joining us, Ser Barristan?"_

 _"I think I can protect you from Hizdar zo Loraq,"_ Daario stated.

 _"I think I can protect me from Hizdar zo Loraq. Come, Ser Barristan."_

Hizdahr zo Loraq who had been sent to Yunkai as the crowns ambassador had arrived back in Meereen, accompanied by the Wise Masters intentions. The head of the great Meereenese family bowed as Daemon approached the throne, followed by Daario and Ser Barristan by his side. Hizdar zo Loraq approached Daemon with a smile, _"the mission to Yunkai was a resounding success. The Wise Masters of Yunkai have agreed to cede power to a council of elders, made up of both the freedmen and the former slaveholders. All matters of consequence will be brought to you for review."_

 _"Good,"_ Daemon replied.

 _"They did ask for some concessions."_

The young dragon looked to Hizdar outraged, _"concessions?"_

 _"Politics is the art of compromise, your grace."_

Daemon glared at Hizdar zo Loraq, angered at the audacity the Wise Masters of Yunaki had to request a compromise. _"I am not a politician. I am a King."_ Ser Barristan Selmy smiled at the young dragons reply, proud of the king he had grown into.

Hizdar zo Loraq bowed his head politely before looking at Daemon once more, _"forgive me. You're right, of course. Still, it is easier to rule happy subjects than angry ones."_

 _"I don't expect the Wise Masters to be happy. Slavery made them rich, I ended slavery."_

 _"They do not ask for the return of slavery. They ask for the re-opening of the fighting pits-"_

 _"The fighting pits? Where slaves fought slaves to the death?"_ Daemons violet eyes flickered in frustration from the Wise Masters' attempts to undermine the rules implemented under his reign.

 _"In the new world that you have brought to us, free men would fight free men. Opening them would show the people of Yunkai and Meereen that you respect their traditions."_

 _"I do not respect the tradition of human cockfighting."_

 _"All men must die. But not all can die in glory."_

 _"Glory?"_ Missandei questioned.

 _"Why else do men fight? Why did your ancestors cross the Narrow Sea and conquer the Seven Kingdoms? So their names would live on."_ Hizdar zo Loraq paused before stepping forward, _"those who find victory in the fighting pits will never become kings, but their names will live on. It's the best chance they'll ever have."_

 _"Is that what you used to tell men_ _before you set them to butchering each other for sport?"_

 _"Your Grace, today is the traditional start of the fighting season."_

 _"I do not recognise this tradition."_

 _"Traditions are the only thing that will hold this city, your city, together. Without them, former slaves and former masters have nothing in common. Nothing but centuries of mistrust and resentment. I can't promise this is the answer to all our problems, but it's a start."_

When the assembly had ended, Daemon returned to his room frustrated. Ser Barristan waited outside as Daario entered the room to comfort the angered prince. Daemon paced back and forth, _"whatever he wants from me he's not going to get it. If he really believes I'm going to reopen the fighting pits-"_

 _"You should reopen the fighting pits,"_ Daario argued.

Daemon stopped and glared at Daario, _"what?"_

 _"My mother was a whore, I told you that. She liked to drink pear brandy. The older she got, the less she made selling her body, the more she wanted to drink. So one day when I was twelve, she sold_ _me to a slaver she fucked the night before."_

 _"Why?"_ Daemon wondered how a mother could abandon her child so easily. He had never known the love of a mother, the warmth of her embrace. Afterall the day he was brought into this world was the day his mother passed. The kind Queen Rhaella had sacrificed her life to bring him into a world where he would become the last dragon, the heir to the Iron Throne and the last glimpse of hope for the majestic Targaryen dynasty.

 _"I was a bad child. I wasn't big, but I was quick. And I loved to fight. So they sold me to a man in Tolos who trained fighters for the pits. I had my first match when I was sixteen."_

 _"You were sold into slavery, forced to fight to the death for the amusement of the masters, and you are defending the fighting pits?"_ Daemon began pacing again and to his frustration, the violet in his eyes turned a dark amethyst.

 _"I'm only here because of those pits. I learned to fight like a Dothraki screamer, a Norvoshi Prest, a Westerosi knight. Soon I was famous. Ten thousand men and women screamed my name when I stepped into the pit. I made so much money for my master he set me free on his deathbed. I joined the Second Sons, and then I met you."_

Daemon stops in his steps and looked at Daario bewildered and in thought. The sellsword approached him, _"you're the king. Everyone is too afraid of you to speak the truth. Everyone but me. You have made thousands of enemies all across the world. As soon as they see weakness, they will attack. Show your strength here, now."_

The young dragon paused in thought before turning toward Daario with a burning gaze and asserted tone, _"tell Hizdar zo Loraq that I will consent to the start of the fighting season and the reopening of the fighting pits."_

The famed fighting pits of Meeren had been an old tradition since the founding of Meereen during the age of the great Ghiscari Empire. Now the games were reopened once Daemon's royal decree arrived at Hizdar zo Loraq estate. The Meereenese nobles, former slave masters and freedmen were elated to hear the news. Although slave fought to the death for the pleasure of the crowd as well as fame, glory and enough gold to fill their pockets and that of their masters, the fighting pits were also a chance for people to place their mark in the world on the walls of the fighting pits. Daemon's reign had the act of forcing slaves to fight to the death in the pits of Meereen was abolished, the slaves initiated as freedmen and the former masters requesting for the fighting pits to be reopened.

The crowd cheered as the Dragon Lord appeared in the fighting pits, seated at the top of fighting pits. Hizdar zo Loraq had prepared the games in honour of Daemons reign, adorning the fighting pits with flags and symbols of the Targaryen house. A three-headed black dragon on a field of fire.

Daario Naharis and Ser Barristan Selmy stood behind Daemon on high alert watching the crowd. _"Where have you been?"_ Daemon asked as Hizdar zo Loraq arrived and sat down beside him.

The Meereenese noble smiled, _"just making sure everything's in order."_

The Targaryen sigil of a black three-headed dragon on a red field was raised as the games were announced. _"Free citizens of Meereen! By the blessings of the Graces and his majesty the King, welcome to the Great Games!"_ The man announced before he raised his hand causing the crowd to roar in cheer.

Two arm gladiators, one large as a bull and the other skinny as if he had been starved for days appeared dressed in armour.

 _"My king, out first contest. Who will triumph? The strong or the quick?"_

The smallest of the two gladiators stepped forward, "Aōhor jaqiarzir ivīlībin imorghūlīn, jaqiarzus Dārȳs." His words were followed by that of the larger gladiator who repeated, "Aōhor jaqiarzir ivīlībin imorghūlīn, jaqiarzus Dārȳs."

 _I fight and die for your glory, O glorious King._ Both men looked at Daemon waiting for his response. The crowd grew silent as the gladiators stood before the king. "Their waiting for you. Clap your hands." Hizdar zo Loraq explained.

Daemon glanced at the two men for a moment before uniting his hands to form the ring of a clap. The crowd begin to roar as the gladiator's bow to their king respectfully before the fight starts.

The fight begins with parries between the quick and the strong. Both attempting to lunge at each other with their blades, the quick proving to be the better contender when he sliced the strong man's neck.

Daario leaned towards Daemon murmuring in his ear, _"that one, the smaller man, no question, that's where you should put your money."_

 _"I'm not putting my money anywhere,"_ Daemon states.

 _"Kings and queens never bet on the games. Perhaps you should go find someone who does."_ Hizdar retorts as he observed the games.

 _"People used to bet against me when I fought in the pits."_ Daario turns to look at Hizdar before snickering, _"he would have bet against me. Common novice mistake."_

Hizdar argued, _"I have spent much of my life in Meereen, and in my experience, larger men do triumph over smaller man, far more often than not."_

 _"Has your experience ever involved any actual fighting? You, yourself, have you ever tried to kill a man that was trying to kill you?"_ Daemon smirked as he watched the gladiators fight. His words were cruel and cold, it was obvious that the noble lord of an ancient Meereenese house who had been raised with a golden spoon in his mouth, had no reason to lift a finger.

Hizdar zo Loraq grew silent at Daemons statement causing Daario to grin from ear to ear. _"Whenever I got into the pit against a beast like that one, the crowd saw me, all skin and bone back then, then they saw a pile of angry muscles ready to murder me. They couldn't get their money out fast enough. But the pile of angry muscles never had any muscles here,"_ Daario pulls out his dagger and places it against Hizdar's neck, _"or here. And the big men were always too slow to stop my dagger from going where their muscles weren't. Yes, whenever I saw a beast like that one, standing across from me making his beast faces, I knew I could rest easy."_

The crowd begins to roar when the strong man rises victorious, decapitating the quick man in a single stroke with his blade. Hizdar zo Loraq smiles gleefully at the gladiator, infuriating Daario who turns away angrily. Perhaps Daario did not understand the fighting pits in Meereen as much as he had initially predicted. Despite the loud cheering of the crowd, Daemon stays silent, watching, observing. "You don't approve?" Hizdar questioned.

 _"There's always been more than enough death in the world for my taste. I can do without it in my leisure time,"_ Daemon replied.

 _"Fair enough, yet it's an unpleasant question but what great thing has ever truly been accomplished without killing or cruelty?"_

 _"It's easy to confuse what is with what ought to be. especially when what is and had worked in your favour."_

 _"I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about the necessary conditions of greatness."_

 _"That is greatness?"_ Daemon responds watching men appear to drag the decapitated head and body away, staining the pit in a trail of blood left behind from the dead man.

 _"That is a vital part of the great city of Meereen. Which has existed long before you arrived and will remain standing long after we have returned to the dirt."_

 _"My father would have liked you."_

The supervisor of the games appeared to announce, _"we ask again, who will triumph?"_

 _"One day your great city will return to the dirt as well,"_ Daemon spoke calmly.

Hizdar zo Loraq turned towards Daemon and murmured, _"at your command?"_

 _"If need be."_

 _"How many people will die to make this happen,"_ he argues as the crowd applauds to the entrance of a Meereenese champion.

"A Meereenese champion?" The announcer declared as the man stepped forward and paid his respects towards the king.

Daemon displayed a placid front as he replied, _"if it comes to that they would have died for a good reason."_

Hizdar glances at the pit, _"those men think they're dying for a good reason."_

 _"Someone else's reason."_

 _"So your reasons are true, and theirs are false. They don't know their own minds, but you do."_

The crowd cheers once more as the final contender appears beside the Meereenese champion. The Westerosi Knight raises his head to reveal himself as the exiled Ser Jorah Mormont, _"I fight and die for your glory, O glorious King."_

Daemon leans forward in his seat at the sight of the Westerosi Knight before him. It was hard for him to control his emotions towards Jorah. He had exiled him, promised to execute him if he had ever returned and yet he stood before him in a pit, fighting against men who revelled in the cheers of the crowd.

 _"Your Grace-"_

Daario watched as the expression on Daemon's face changed, turning to Hizdar in warning, _"shut your mouth."_

Jorah bowed respectfully towards Daemon as he clapped to start the combat. The young prince could not deny his eyes that followed Jorah's movements as he fought with the Meereenes champion. His heart ached when blood trickled down Jorahs lips from the harsh blow that knocked him down to the ground. A ferocious opponent appeared, lunging at with a spear. Jorah dodged several blows from the man before being held in a choked hold. The Westerosi knight stole the dagger from the mans grasped and propelled it into his throat, allowing a fast and clean end for the opponent. When the man had fallen to the ground, Jorah turned to grab his long sword to battle the next opponent.

The fighter before him was also fond of a longsword, wielding it as if he had been born to fight in the pits. The man attacked Jorah, scaring him with a cut on the cheek and a stab in the gut. Jorah and the man paced around each other in circles as if they were birds, dancing in a field. The man soon lunged and attacked once more, disarming the old knight, kicking his long sword to land meters away. Jorah turned to look at Daemon as he lay beneath the fighter. The man grinned as he held the longsword above Jorah's chest, declaring his power, strength and skill before the crowd.

 _"You can end this,"_ Daario ushered, observing Daemon's distraught expression.

 _"He cannot,"_ Hizdar argued.

Daario exclaims, _"you can!"_

Daemon continued to watch as the fighter moved the blade towards Jorah's throat. His smile ended when another opponent appeared from behind and stabbed the fighter in the back, killing him and ultimately, saving Jorah. The crowd roared for the Meereenese champion as he turned around, arms raised and revelling in their cheering. Jorah stood and grabbed his long sword, approaching the Meereenese champion.

The Meereenese champion, dressed in black armour had been famed for his skills with a spear. He strode towards Jorah, proud and calm before swinging his weapon violently. Jorah defended his attacks, blocking it with the steel sword despite the power the spear emitted. The man lunged at Jorah, catching the Westerosi knight by great surprise when he entangled him in his grasp using the long spear. To his dismay Jorah managed to escape the hold, stepping back to observe his moves. The Meereenese champion thought him proud, lunging at Jorah once more with the spear. That, however, was his downfall. Jorah propelled his sword into the man's chest as he lunged towards him. He fell to the ground groaning in pain as Jorah removed the sword from his body, revealing a blade now dripping in blood.

The crowd of freedmen and former slaves shunned Jorah as he arose victoriously. Daemon watched as Jorah's hand moved to the spear the Meereenes champion held before propelling it towards the stage. Daario pushed Daemon away to display the spear plunged in Son of the Harpy. Daemon watched in shock as more Sons of the Harpy appeared behind their golden masks.

 _"Protect your king!"_ Daario yelled beckoning for the unsullied and blood riders standing by to gather around Daemon.

The Sons of the Harpy began to massacre the Unsullied standing guard and the former slaves that stood amongst the crowd. The stadium rained in blood and echoed in screams while the Kings Guard, Ser Barristan and Daario guarded Daemon, Visenya and Missandei in high alert. Jorah rushes to Daemon's side, slicing the throat of a Son of the Harpy who viciously lunged towards the King. Hizdar turns to look at Daemon, _"your grace, your grace, come with me! I know a way out! I know a way-"_

His words ended with two Sons of the Harpy appearing behind him, stabbing him to death. Daemon grew wide-eyed at the sight and froze in shock. Several more Sons of the Harpy appear, lunging at the young dragon with swords and daggers, the violence of the men met with the shields and spears of the Unsullied who stood guard of Daemon. Daario attacked and killed several men before turning to face Daemon, _"we need to go. Now!"_ Ser Barristan followed closely behind, defending Daemon from the attacks of the Sons of the Harpy.

Daemon heads down the pit with Missandei, Visenya, Daario, Ser Barristan and the Kings Guard upon Jorahs assistance. _"This way!"_ Jorah leads as they run towards the exit that closes abruptly as a Son of the Harpy steps out to attack. Jorah turns to stab the Son of the Harpy in the chest alerting Daario and Ser Barristan. Daario turns and grabs Daemon by the arm, _"the other side, follow me."_

The Dragon Lord turns to his sister and holds her hand as they run towards the other side. _"Protect your King,"_ Ser Barristan commands and the Kings Guard gather towards Daemon closer followed by the remaining Unsullied in the stadium. As they make their way to the centre of the pit, hundreds of the Sons of the Harpy appear, creating a blockade and surrounding them. Daario and Jorah pull out their weapons as the Kings Guard and Unsullied display their shields and spears. Ser Barristand and Missandei stand close by to the King and princess as the Sons of the Harpy attack.

Balaerion's roar brings the fighting pit to a silence and a smile onto Daemons lips. The black dread followed by Sunfyre and Vermithor appeared loosely behind. The three dragons descended the arena and rained fire and blood, scorching the Sons of the Harpy alive like prey in a field. Balaerion landed down in the pits, striking the men with his scaled tail and burning them alive with dragon fire.

 _"Balaerion,"_ Daemon smiled.

The Sons of the Harpy begin to propel spears towards Balaerion who grew furious at the action, raging in fire and roaring in hostility. Daemon approached Balaerion who was slaughtering the men with his fangs. _"Daemon...no..."_ Visenya ushered.

Daemon lets go of her hand and walked towards Balaerion who was now injured by the spears. He held onto the spear lunged into the scales of the dragon and pulled it, causing Balaerion to rumble in pain. Balaerion turned to Daemon and shrieked a roar that echoed through the fighting pits. Although daemons raven-hair wavered at the dragons roar, his eyes stayed calm even as Balaerion's fangs were unleashed. He walked beside Balaerion and mounted him to everyone's surprise. "Valahd," he whispered.

Balaerion extended his wings and took flight angering the Sons of the Harpy who had intended to place Daemon's head on a stake and return Essos back to its ancient laws, the slave masters. The legion of the Sons of the Harpy in the fighting pits brought out their bows and drew their arrows, aiming straight and clear towards the Dragon Lord. Arrows laced in poison, lethal to the touch. Several arrows missed but only one was enough to bring an imminent death. Daemon groaned in pain when an arrow plunged itself into his left shoulder blade, followed by another. Sunfyre and Vermithor swooped in to rain fire and blood down to the remaining Sons of the Harpy who were aiming arrows towards their brother and father. The fighting pits echoed in the screams as the dragon fire grew in a blaze.

* * *

 **Volantis the First Daughter, Free Cities, Essos 300AC**

 _"Don't burn down my home,"_ Alistair lectured.

 _"I won't,"_ Lyanna insisted as she handed the luggage to the drive to be placed on the coach.

 _"Don't bargain away my valuables."_

Lyanna chuckled, _"I won't."_

Alistair paused in his stride and looked to the flask of wine in his hand worriedly, _"don't go into the cellar."_

 _"I don't drink,"_ she replied with a smile.

 _"Don't bring strays home."_

 _"I won't."_ Lyanna smiled, _"now get going or you will be late."_

 _"And please stay out of trouble,"_ Alistair murmured as he looked at Lyanna. He brushed a stray lock behind her ear, _"I won't be here to look after you and neither will Gendry."_

 _"I know...but why do you nag like an old man..."_

 _"Because I am an old man."_

 _"Alright, alright, I will be fine. Now go on."_ Lyanna leant towards him and placed a kiss on his cheek. Alistair smiled reluctantly before handing her the flask and seating himself in the coach. _"I will be gone, a month, two at the most. Stay safe and don't entangle yourself with troublesome people."_

 _"Don't worry too much, I will write whenever I can,"_ she replied. Lyanna stood in front the gates of the state watching as the coach rode further into the distance. Alistair and Gendry had become her family for so long and now they would both be leaving her alone in Volantis. Of course, Lyanna had always expected that a day as such would come. Gendry had always been more interested in forging weapons and physical labour than picking herbs with her and Alistair always received letters and ravens from across the world requesting his presence.

On the eve of that morning, Lyanna was elated to find a letter from Winterfell, signed by the King in the North Robb Stark on his desk. After the war of the five kings, Tywin Lannister and Robb Stark had agreed to a period of peace for the good of Westeros. The tyrant boy king Joffery was too ignorant to understand what had truly occurred, believe that he had won just-fully as the rightful king. Perhaps it was crueller that the people around him gave weight to his irrational conclusions with their constant compliments driven by fear.

The dark shadow covered the estate as a loud roar echoed in the air. Lyanna's heart stopped at the sound, glancing up to the sky the figure of the sun was covered by the large body of the black dragon. She began to waver in concern, adrenaline running through her veins as she stormed into the stables to fetch her horse. _"Good girl,"_ she whispered before mounting the raven stallion.

Balaerion had flown into the fields, leaving a trail of crushed branches and trees. Lyanna rushed to the scene, observing as the black dragon hovered over Daemon who laid on the ground unconscious - his skin was pale, white as snow, life drained out of his once rosy cheeks from the quantity of blood he lost from the injuries. The wolf princess's heart grew heavy at the sight of the stranger on the brink of life and death. She slid off the horse calmly and paced slowly towards the dragon who hovered above Daemon protectively. Balaerion turned towards her, unleashing a loud roar in warning.

 _"Hush sweetling,"_ she glanced at Daemon who laid on the bed of grass, _"he is slipping away...I'm here to help..."_

Dragons had been famed not only for their might and power but for the pure intelligence and instincts, Balaerion would become living proof. The black dread observed as he withdrew to allow Lyanna to tend to his master. Daemon's breaths were short and heavy, beads of sweat rolled down his skin as she kneeled down beside him. Her wide-eyed concern exposed her genuine emotions towards the wounds he bore. Lyanna grasped onto the arrow, snapping it beneath her hands promoting a pained groan from Daemon and Balaerion's protective roar in response.

 _"It's, okay. He's okay,"_ Lyanna ushered with a smile.


End file.
